


Betrayals

by cowgirl65



Category: Big Valley
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bisexuality, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-27
Updated: 2011-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-22 12:16:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 40,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowgirl65/pseuds/cowgirl65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an alternate universe story.  For anyone who follows Big Valley fanfic, it seems like at some point everyone does their own version of how Heath comes to the Valley.  This is mine.<br/>To set the timeline, the year is 1870.  Jarrod is 28, Nick 24, Heath 20 and Audra 14.  Poor Eugene has again been relegated to non-existence.  Spoilers for Palms of Glory and Boots With My Father's Name</p><p>Inspired by an idea from shiningamlinocji</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any television show and make nothing from writing this other than cheap thrills

“Good job in there, Nick.”

His brother’s hearty slap on the back and words of praise made Nick Barkley puff up proudly. Combined with the heady accolade of being voted president of the San Joaquin Cattlemen’s Association at only twenty-four, Nick’s stride was almost a strut as he and Jarrod walked across the street to retrieve their horses.

“Thanks, Pappy,” Nick practically crowed as they swung into their saddles. The thunderous acclimation from his peers, men who were decades older than the young rancher still reverberated in his mind and Nick basked in the glory of his achievement as they headed for home. He wouldn’t have been able to wipe the cocky grin off his face even if he’d wanted to.

“Father would be very proud of you,” Jarrod added quietly after a few minutes. “All the hopes and dreams for his sons bundled into one big, bold package.”

Nick looked over to his older brother. Jarrod had a smile on his face, but there was a wistfulness in his blue eyes and a note of regret in his deep voice. Nick sighed. So caught up in the heady rush of his own achievement, he hadn’t given a thought to his brother’s feelings. Even though he was a well-respected and successful lawyer, Nick knew Jarrod felt that he had been a failure and disappointment to their father.

Tom Barkley had always dreamed of having his eldest son take over the running of the vastly successful ranch and become a leader of the valley’s landowners just as he himself had been. Nick could remember countless evenings, sneaking down the stairs after being sent to bed and listening to the increasingly heated arguments between father and son as Jarrod fought to follow his own star.

“He’d be proud of you too, Jarrod.”

Jarrod gave his brother a small smile. “As a man, maybe, but not as his son. Nothing else would do but for Tom Barkley’s oldest to follow in his footsteps. But, you, Nick,” he said with a forced cheer, “you are everything he wanted. And a damn good brother to boot.”

Nick accepted Jarrod’s sidestepping, but family was everything and he didn’t want to see his beloved brother beat himself up over something that couldn’t be changed. “And you’re a damn good man to have by my side, Jarrod. I don’t think I could’ve stepped into Father’s shoes without knowing you believed I could do it.” Nick let the matter drop, too pleased with himself to dwell on past disappointments. “C’mon, race you home. Can’t wait to tell Mother and Audra the good news.”

He dug his heels in his horse’s side and slapped him with the reins, letting out a raucous “Yee-ahh!” as Coco took off down the road. Jarrod smiled and urged Jingo after him and soon they thundered through the wrought iron gate leading to the house.

“Pay up, Nick,” Jarrod told the dark haired rancher as they dismounted and led their sweaty horses into the barn.

“And why would I do that?” Nick growled good-naturedly.

“Because Jingo beat Coco by a nose,” Jarrod pointed out as he loosened the girth and pulled the saddle from the sorrel’s back. “I think the typical wager is five dollars?”

“Well, that may be, but I know for a fact Coco and I were through the gate first,” Nick shot back. “Hey, Duke!” he called to the ranch foreman as the older man walked by the open door. “Did you see who was first?”

Duke McCall stopped and turned, pushing his hat off his weather-beaten face as he regarded the brothers in amusement, well aware of the friendly rivalry. “Nope, can’t say as I did. Hey, Thomson,” he called over his shoulder, “you were close to the gate, who came in first, the chestnut or the sorrel?”

“Reckon it was the sorrel,” came a soft drawl from somewhere outside, “chestnut’s stride seemed to be breaking a little.”

“Told you, brother Nick,” Jarrod laughed as he curried his horse’s red coat to a sheen.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick grumbled as he checked over his beloved Coco’s legs. “Just who is this Thomson anyway, Duke? Don’t recollect anyone by that name working the place.” Satisfied, he patted the dark chestnut’s shoulder before leading him into a nearby stall.

Duke shrugged. “Rode up this morning, looking for work. You know we’re shorthanded, so I hired him on the spot. Young, but seems hard-working enough.”

“Hmph.” Nick glanced over at Jarrod, who was making sure Jingo’s water bucket was full. “Might be hard-working, but he’s gonna hafta prove to me he’s not half-blind.”

Jarrod chuckled and clapped his disgruntled brother on the shoulder. “Sound’s like he’s got the eyes of an eagle to me,” he teased, rubbing it in. “Let’s go, Nick, and tell Mother and Audra about your recent accomplishment.”

As they strode in the direction of the house, Nick caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye that made him stop and stare and gave his full attention to the young man loading posts onto the wagon. His shirt was plastered to his back in the heat and clung to the muscles that rippled with every movement. As he bent over to grab another fencepost, Nick was treated to a full view of a well-rounded backside. How the devil did the young man fit into those tight pants anyway? They could have been painted on, the way his ass filled them out.

Nick’s lips took on a wicked curl. He wanted that ass. Wanted it so bad he could taste it. Or at least taste the sweet elixir that he could just imagine spewing out as he rammed his cock between those enticing cheeks. Nick chuckled to himself. He’d just have to nose around and see if the boy had any leanings that way. And if he didn’t… Well, Nick Barkley was nothing if not persuasive.

“And what’s so amusing, brother Nick?”

Nick turned to see Jarrod looking at him curiously. “Oh, nothing, Pappy,” he replied, trying to appear nonchalant. Jarrod followed Nick’s gaze at it returned to the blond cowboy in the tight tan pants and raised an eyebrow.

“Uh huh.”

Nick tried to look innocent, but the problem was, Jarrod knew him all too well. His lust for men as well as women was the one thing Tom Barkley’s second son knew his father would’ve been deeply disappointed in and he’d never forget the time Jarrod had burst in on him and one of his lovers, warning him that their father was headed for that little-used storage shack at the edge of the main yard. He never asked and Jarrod had never told how he came to know what Nick was up to and where, but after his initial fury and embarrassment at being found out, Nick was forever grateful for Jarrod’s intervention and discretion.

“What?” Nick demanded, putting on his most innocuous expression. “I was just figuring that must be the new man Duke was talking about. Thomson, I think he said.” He paused for another view of the firm young body. “Looks to be a hard worker.”

“And let’s leave him to his work,” Jarrod advised pointedly. “I’m sure you’ll get to know him when you’re repairing that stretch of fence on the north pasture tomorrow.”

“That is a fact, counsellor,” Nick agreed with a grin, thinking just how well he could get to know the boy and the two brothers continued on to the house.

*

“Good job, Thomson.”

The blond steeled himself, not betraying the fact that he hadn’t heard the foreman come up behind him, the older man’s words almost making him jump out of his skin. Calmly, smoothly, he turned an impassive face to his boss.

“You worked up quite a sweat.” Heath tried not to flinch under the other man’s appraising look, casually removing his hat and wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. “Y’know no one’ll mind if you take off your shirt when it’s scorching out here like this.”

“Thanks, but reckon I’ll keep it on just the same, Mr. McCall.”

Duke McCall shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He eyed the wagon, fully loaded with wooden posts. “Seeing as you’re done, why don’t you head in early and clean up for chow. We’ll be taking this load out in the morning. The fences in the north pasture aren’t quite up to the boss’ standards.” He gave Heath a companionable slap on the shoulder, the young cowboy tensing under the contact but not letting on how much he hated to be touched. “See you at supper.”

Heath watched McCall walk away and carefully surveyed the yard. A few people over by the smithy, but that seemed to be all. Throwing his shoulders back, posture strong and confident to deter anyone from stopping him, Heath strode across to the pump on the far side of the barn. With another quick glance to make sure no one was around to see, Heath quickly stripped off his shirt and worked the handle, ducking his head under the water that poured out. He moved further under the cold stream, letting the refreshing water run over his neck and shoulders until he finally felt cool. Heath stood and tossed his wet hair back off his forehead, then grabbed the shirt he’d thrown over the pump, rinsing and wringing it out before hastily donning and buttoning the sodden garment.

Heath headed to the bunkhouse, cautiously opening the door and looking around. It was still a bit early and none of the hands were back yet. Going to his bunk, Heath pulled a dry shirt out of his saddlebags and traded it for the wet one. He glanced at the footlocker under the edge of the bed and quickly discarded the idea of unpacking his belongings. Keeping his gear rolled and stowed in his well-worn saddlebags meant he could leave at any time without anyone noticing.

The scent of meat and bread wafted to his nostrils and Heath’s stomach gurgled restlessly. Making his way to the cookhouse, Heath stood in the doorway for a moment before approaching the short bald man working diligently behind a large wooden table.

“Howdy,” the man greeted, not looking up from his task of slicing the loaf of bread. “What can I do for you?”

Heath shrugged, not letting on how hungry he was. It had been four, no, five days since his belly was last full and the savoury smells from the large pot on the fire were enough to drive him to distraction. “Name’s Thomson. Just hired on today.”

The wizened man nodded and wiped his hands on his apron before extending one across the table. “Cookie,” he offered. “Nice to meet you, Thomson.”

Heath took a deep breath before shaking the proffered hand quickly. “Yeah, same.”

Cookie indicated the pot behind him with a nod of his head. “Stew’s pretty much done. Haven’t rung the bell yet, but you’re welcome to a bowl now if you’re hungry.”

“I could eat,” Heath said noncommittally as he grabbed a bowl from the nearby stack.

Cookie took the bowl and filled it, giving a gap-toothed grin as he handed it back and pushed a slice of bread into Heath’s hand. “Coffee’s on that stove over yonder. Come back for more if you want. Barkleys don’t stint on the grub.”

“Thanks.” Heath took his dinner over to a side table and ate his stew deliberately, chewing each succulent bite thoroughly as he relished the hot meal. He was about to go up for the offered seconds when Cookie stepped outside to ring the dinner bell. Snagging just a slice of bread instead, Heath left before the rest of the hands descended on the place for their dinners. He quietly slipped across the yard to stable where he’d left his black Modoc earlier in the day.

The mare whickered softly when she caught his scent and Heath slipped into the stall beside her, rubbing her nose as he leaned his head on her glossy black flank.

“Reckon we’ll stay here for a bit, Gal,” he confided in a low voice. “Pay’s good, food’s edible, foreman don’t ask too many questions. And only a day’s ride to Strawberry if I get some time off.” Heath straightened up and, spying a brush on a nearby shelf, proceeded to groom his horse lovingly. “You and me, little Gal, we’re a team. Friends forever.”

Heath spent the next couple hours with his faithful companion, leaving only when he figured everyone would be asleep and he could slip into the bunkhouse unnoticed.


	2. Chapter 2

Nick surveyed the activity from atop Coco’s broad back. The teams were hitched to the wagons of fencing supplies and the men were pretty much all mounted and ready to go. He caught sight of the new hand, Heath Thomson, checking the girth on his black’s saddle and he watched avidly as the young cowboy leaped into the saddle from a standing position, not bothering to use the stirrups at all. That movement set a small fire in Nick’s groin and he renewed his determination to add the blond to his list of conquests.

“Okay, men,” he called when everyone appeared to be ready, getting his mind back on the task at hand, “let’s move out. This is a working ranch, y’know!”

On the ride to the north pasture, Nick took his time in approaching the object of his desires. He started off beside Duke, discussing the day’s work crew, then paused by the driver of one of the wagons to inquire about how the team was handling before he pulled up alongside the blond on the black mare.

“Quite a pony you got there,” Nick commented casually. “Looks like she’s a runner,” he added when he didn’t get a reply.

“Yep.”

“Thinking she’s a Modoc. They breed ‘em right up there.” All Nick received was a non-committal grunt.

He switched topics and tried again. “Hot, ain’t it?’

Another, “Yep.”

“You can really raise a sweat this time of year.” The blond didn’t answer.

Nick wasn’t about to give up yet. He noticed the rifle attached to the worn saddle. “That’s a fine-looking blowpipe you’ve got there. Mexican?”

“Got the bite to blow the head off a grizzly.” Heath’s gaze remained on a point somewhere between his horse’s ears.

Finally, a response! “That is, if you get to it in time,” Nick joked.

“Don’t need to, just think it,” the young cowboy said diffidently. “Eyeball or button I wanna pop and pow…” He tugged on his Modoc’s reins. “ ‘Scuse me,” and pulled the horse away to fall back to the edge of the group.

“Damned unfriendly cuss,” Nick muttered under his breath. He wasn’t used to being blown off like that and resented it mightily. But Thomson’s indifference lit a spark in Nick, the thrill of the chase and the lure of the unattainable hard to resist. He was determined to have Heath Thomson, one way or another.

*

Nick paused, taking a moment for a drink for his canteen and to mop the sweat from his brow. He glanced at the men working on the fence. In the sweltering heat, most had removed their shirts and Nick appreciated the view of muscles glistening with sweat. Not that he wasn’t turned on by big breasts and luscious curves, no sir, but there was something about the carnal lust engendered by a man…

His thoughts changed when his roving gaze reached Thomson. Dammit, the boy still had his shirt on! Nick shook his head in frustration, wanting, no, needing, an unobstructed view of that toned young body. It just wasn’t fair.

Nick had to chuckle. As big brother Jarrod would say, life wasn’t fair and he’d just have to live with it. Well, he might have to live with it, but he was going to do his damnedest to change it. There was no place to get Thomson alone on that day’s job, but Nick’s mind worked on ways he could arrange for it to be just he and the blond out on some secluded part of the range. Restocking and repairing the line shacks, maybe. Nick’s groin tightened at that thought. The line shacks were equipped with nice, firm bunks, after all…

*

“Hey, boy, ever thought of having something more powerful than that mare between your legs?”

It had been a long, gruelling day and Heath was looking forward to getting back to the ranch proper and finding a secluded spot to wind down. But Nick’s comment, while innocuous on the surface, sent an uncomfortable shiver down Heath’s spine. He noted the voracious appetite in the hazel eyes and quickly looked away. He’d seen that look directed his way before and ruthlessly quashed the feeling of panic that threatened. Too many times he’d been the plaything of another’s lusts and wasn’t about to go down that road again.

He patted his Modoc on the neck. “Reckon my Gal and me do just fine,” he said, proud of the detachment in his voice, and wheeled his mount to ride as far from the tall rancher as possible, consciously ignoring the dark scowl that passed over Nick’s face.

Heath could feel those hazel eyes on him the whole way back to the ranch buildings, their intensity scorching an almost physical hole in Heath’s back. Despite the revulsion he felt, a twisted little part of him welcomed the attention and the carnal debasement that would accompany giving in to the other man’s lusts.

Heath shook his head. No. There was no way he would ever let another have that sort of power over him again. He’d wait until it was time to collect his pay and go, leaving Nick Barkley and his own warped urges behind.

*

Nick scowled. Was the boy really that obtuse, not understanding Nick’s real intent? Or maybe he was just naïve enough that he couldn’t understand? Nick sighed in frustration. Patience wasn’t a virtue that came easily to him, but he reckoned patience was just what it was going to take if he ever wanted in the blond’s pants. His cock swelled at the thought and he reached down to adjust it before his erection became too uncomfortable and promised it some relief soon. Tonight was Saturday night after all and his mind drifted to the enticing curves of the working girls at his favourite saloon and the certainty that one or all would be more than willing to take care of his voracious sexual appetites.

He considered inviting Thomson to go with them, wondering if he could get the young man drunk enough that he could lure him into one of the upstairs rooms at the saloon. But, no, that would be too obvious and besides, with the way he’d already been rebuffed more than once today, he’d already resigned himself to biding his time.

Maybe the other man would come along anyway. Nick chuckled lewdly. If the opportunity presented itself, Heath Thomson had better watch his ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some of the dialogue was borrowed from the series pilot 'Palms of Glory'


	3. Chapter 3

“Coming into town tonight, big brother?”

Jarrod looked up from the papers on his desk to see his brother with a wide dimpled grin on his face, hair freshly washed and slicked back off his forehead. Nick Barkley looked confident and self-assured enough to take on the world and Jarrod wasn’t sure if he was willing to try and measure up.

“I don’t think so, Nick,” he said, indicating the ledgers on his desk. “I’ve got all these payrolls from the lumber camps to go through, plus Judge Adamson needs the papers filed on the Palmer case first thing Monday morning.”

Nick perched on the edge of the desk. “Aw, c’mon, take the night off. Remember, all work and no play makes Pappy a dull boy.”

Jarrod had to smile at the heartfelt invitation. “You go on, Nick. Maybe I’ll join you later.”

“I’ll give the girls your regrets,” Nick said wickedly, hazel eyes dancing. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there to console them when they start pining for you.” He settled his black Stetson at a rakish angle and gave Jarrod a wink as he left the library.

Jarrod sighed as he looked back at the books in front of him. Not likely any of the girls at the saloon would be pining for him, not while Nick was ready and available. Truth be told, he didn’t feel like playing second fiddle to his younger, ruggedly handsome brother.

Whenever Nick Barkley entered a room, he was inevitably the instant focus of attention. Not that Jarrod usually minded, he knew he could charm and dazzle the ladies with the best of them, he just wasn’t usually their first choice when Nick was present. Jarrod closed his eyes, feeling sorry for himself for a moment, then felt foolish. He knew he was a more than competent lawyer, well respected by his peers and the citizens of Stockton and easily able to find female companionship whenever he wanted.

Jarrod blamed his current melancholy on Nick’s coup at wrangling the presidency of the Cattlemen’s Association, a position held by their father until his death three years ago. He wasn’t precisely jealous, but Nick’s success just brought back bitter memories of how he’d disappointed their father by not turning out to be the man Tom Barkley had hoped he’d be.

A conversation from right in this very room echoed back to Jarrod, the last time he’d spoken to his father.

> Son, I want you to stop all this nonsense with criminal cases! If you’re not gonna be actively involved with running the ranch, at least focus on the business of this family! If you’d been concentrating more on that and not defending some low-life rustlers, this business with the railroad trying to steal our land wouldn’t have gotten this far!
> 
> I’m my own man, Father! I worked hard to put myself through school without touching a cent of your money and I’ll be damned if I let someone else dictate my life! I swear I’ll be there anytime the family needs me, but I’ll take the cases I want, the ones I feel are important and no one’s going to stop me, not even you!

Jarrod felt the familiar wrenching of his gut that happened every time that conversation came back to haunt him. Those words spoken in the heat of anger were the last words he’d said to his father. Tom Barkley was dead less than sixteen hours later, shot in a standoff in the same dispute with the railroad that he’d berated Jarrod about not doing enough to stop. Not for the first time, guilt at his father’s death washed over Jarrod and the dark haired attorney hung his head in regret.

Suddenly, he needed some air, and, snagging a cigar from the box on his desk, Jarrod threw open the French doors and walked across the yard, not stopping until he reached the corral fence. Resting his foot on the bottom rail, Jarrod bit the end off his cigar, lit it and took a long drag. The peaceful atmosphere washed over him; horses whickering quietly, the far off lowing of cattle pastured not far from the main house, a solitary cricket chirping somewhere near the barn. The air was scented with the musky aroma of livestock and the sweet smell of freshly stacked hay. He did love this place, even loved the hot, dusty work of branding time and roundup, the feeling of pushing his body to the limit working the ranch bringing a sense of satisfaction like no other. Jarrod sighed, inhaling deeply of his cigar and letting the smoke back out, and watched it curl away into the night sky. He should have tried harder to make his father understand that his passion for the law in no way diminished his love for the land.

A subtle movement out of the corner of his eye caught Jarrod’s attention. He turned to spy a dark figure at the corner of the barn. It was unusual for one of the hands to be still around the place on a Saturday night and Jarrod was suddenly intrigued. Moving closer, he saw that it was their newest employee, Heath Thomson. The young man had finished rolling himself a cigarette and was patting his pockets with a disgusted look on his face.

“Light?” Jarrod offered as he walked closer, holding out a match. The blond regarded him warily for a moment, then gave a curt nod. Jarrod struck the match on the side of his boot and held it to the end of the cigarette, cupping his hand so the slight breeze didn’t extinguish the flame.

“Much obliged,” the other man said and made to move off.

“Not in town with the others?” Jarrod asked. He didn’t really wanted the blond to leave and felt the desire for a little company.

“Don’t go in much for that sort of thing,” was the quiet reply. “Man needs a little peace and quiet now and then.” He leaned on the fence, taking a puff of the quirley. “You?”

“Same as you tonight, I guess. Peace and quiet can be hard to come by when you live in the same house as my brother Nick.”

“Reckon that’s the truth.”

Jarrod glanced over and saw a small grin quirking at one corner of the cowboy’s mouth. “Well, Nick’s not all brag and bluster,” Jarrod conceded with a smile of his own, “but no one’s ever called him quiet.”

The two men stood, leaning against the fence, neither displeased with the silence.

Jarrod was the first to speak up. “Talked to Duke this afternoon. Said he was quite impressed with your work, Mr. Thomson.”

“Never been a mister to no one, Mr. Barkley,” the other man said after a moment. “Name’s just Heath.”

“And mine’s just Jarrod. I wanted to let you know we appreciate hard work. If Duke’s right, you’ve got a place here as long as you want it. And I’ve seldom found Duke McCall to be wrong.”

Heath took another drag of the cigarette. “Well, reckon I’ll stay on for a while. Don’t hear much but good things about working for the Barkleys. As long as you don’t cross the big boss man.”

He flashed another wry grin Jarrod’s way and the older man had a sudden sense of déjà vu. He knew he’d never met Heath Thomson before the young man hired on, but somehow, that distinctive look set off a strange combination of warmth, longing and regret in Jarrod. Then the brief smile was gone and the feeling along with it.

“Well, don’t let my brother get to you,” Jarrod advised. “He’s used to having his own way, but he’ll respect you if you stand up for your own ideas.” He thought back to his conflict with his father and added quietly, “If a man doesn’t believe in his own ideals, he can’t call himself much of a man.”

“Reckon I’ll keep that in mind.” Heath glanced at the spent cigarette and dropped it to the dirt, grinding it out beneath the toe of his boot. “Thanks for the light.” He gave Jarrod a slight two-fingered wave before strolling back towards the bunkhouse.

Jarrod remained where he was until the cigar was mere ashes and the butt was relegated to the same fate as Heath’s before the lawyer made his way back to the house and the work he had waiting for him.

*

Heath lay down on his bunk, staring at the underside of the mattress above him. After encountering Jarrod Barkley by the corral, he was rethinking his decision to leave. Something about the older man touched a chord, a longing for companionship that Heath thought had been lost forever. He sensed in the eldest Barkley a quiet, reflective soul not unlike his own and in spite of his usual aversion to the company of other human beings, he found himself drawn to the dark-haired lawyer. A strong contrast to the disquieting intensity he found in the other brother, the undisputed king of the Barkley ranch. Where Jarrod made Heath want to bare his soul, Nick made him want to run for cover before the man’s raw appeal caused him to bare more tangible parts of himself. Heath pulled his blanket over his head and hoped his decision to stay wasn’t going to be one he’d regret.


	4. Chapter 4

Nick closed the door, locking it behind him. He turned and his eyes roved over the buxom form in front of him, devouring the sight of the shapely legs, wide hips and heavy breasts that were threatening to spill out of the low-cut décolletage. It only took one step to grab her in his arms and his lips took hers possessively.

When he finally released her, the redhead was panting, lips swollen from Nick’s embrace.

“So what do you want, Nick, honey?” she asked in a low, sultry tone.

Nick quickly unbuttoned his pants, pushing them over his hips. “For starters, I can think of a good use for you to put those beautiful lips of yours to, Ruby,” he told her as he pulled off his boots and finished removing his pants. He lay back on the bed, stretched to his full length and waited for his favourite girl to start pleasuring him. Nick groaned in satisfaction as Ruby’s lips engulfed his penis, starting on the head and slowly working the length of his shaft.

“Yeah, baby, you do that soooo good.” Nick closed his eyes as his cock was engulfed in the moist heat of the whore’s mouth. The image behind his eyelids started to change, from that of the curly red tresses of the woman ministering to him to the blond hair and blue eyes of Heath Thomson. In his mind, Nick pictured the young man sucking him, bringing him to new heights and grabbed Ruby’s head as his hips bucked off the mattress, almost choking her as his shaft hit the back of her throat. Ruby adapted like the professional she was, following Nick’s lead as he fucked her in the mouth.

“Oh, yeah,” he panted, “oh baby, yeah, wait for it honey, wait for it, here it comes, here it comes, ahhhhhhh!” he cried as he spurted his essence down her throat. Ruby kept sucking, causing Nick involuntary spasms of pleasure until his member started to soften and she slowly released him.

“You like that, Nicky?” she purred, crawling up to kiss his lips. Nick forced his tongue inside, tasting his cum on her lips and wished it were Heath’s fluid he was relishing. Just the thought of it made his cock swell again and Nick abruptly flipped the redhead over, pushing her onto her belly as he spread her thighs. If he couldn’t get the image of the tantalizing blond cowboy out of his head, he might as well take the fantasy as far as he could.

“I want your back door tonight, baby,” he growled huskily, flipping her skirt over her back, not bothering to undress her as he ran his thumb between her cheeks, pressing against her puckered skin.

Ruby squirmed to the edge of the bed, reaching onto the nightstand for a tin of cream. “You’re the boss, Nick,” she acquiesced in a lusty voice as she handed the tin back. “You know what to do.”

Nick opened the tin and liberally spread its contents on his rock hard shaft, using what remained on his fingers to breach her tight hole, pushing and stretching as she writhed beneath him. He used the fingers of his other hand to penetrate her other opening, pressing hard. “Let me know if I’m too rough,” he whispered in her ear as he continued to fuck her with his fingers.

“You ride me as hard as you want, cowboy,” she panted. Nick straightened up as he removed the fingers of his one hand, grasped his cock and forced it in, waiting a moment for Ruby to relax before burying it to the hilt. He closed his eyes, summoning the vision of Thomson’s toned muscles lying there, the blond begging him to move with that soft, sexy drawl.

Nick grabbed hold of her hip, using it for leverage as he slammed into Ruby’s ass again and again, his fingers working her moist tunnel. He knew she was going to be sore, and regretted it a little, but the imagined fervor of being sheathed in the young cowboy’s heat just spurred him on and he didn’t let up on his assault until his world exploded in a flash of light, his seed erupting to fill her hot core. Ruby followed him, gasping out his name as he thrust his fingers hard, the clenching of her muscles squeezing every last drop from his softening shaft.

Nick collapsed across her back, shuddering in the aftermath, gulping in huge breaths of air. He finally rolled off and pulled Ruby into his arms, holding her and kissing her.

“Sorry, baby,” he apologized in an uncharacteristically soft voice, “I just really needed that.”

“You don’t need to apologize, honey,” Ruby reassured him, running her hands over his smooth chest.

“Maybe not, but I think you’ve earned your pay for the rest of the night. Maybe even the week.”

Ruby let out a throaty chuckle. “That’s what I like about you Barkleys, you always make sure a girl’s well-compensated. In more ways than one.”

“And that is a fact,” Nick agreed, in no hurry to leave and Ruby had to chuckle again when a raucous snore erupted from her bedmate’s mouth.


	5. Chapter 5

“Hi-ya! Get in there!” The tired mustangs were chivvied into the corral and Heath pushed his hat up and wiped his grimy forehead with an equally grimy shirtsleeve. He watched as Duke secured the gate before the blond cowboy dismounted, leading his horse for a well-deserved drink at the nearby trough. “Good work out there, Gal,” he told the mare with an appreciative pat on her shoulder. “Them mustangs didn’t have a chance.”

They were able to round up most of the herd that had been running wild in the hills and to Heath’s practiced eye, it appeared that some of them would make pretty good cowponies. Heath watched the new horses with the satisfaction of a job well done. It felt good and the fact that Nick had stayed up in the hills with two of the others hands made it feel even better.

Heath shivered uncomfortably. He had been sure the loud rancher was going to order him to stay and help trap that bay stallion that kept eluding them and he was glad he’d caught the foreman’s eye and was assigned to bringing the herd home before Nick had that chance. Over the past two days of living rough while after the horses, Heath had lost count of the number of innuendos he’d heard from his boss and the number of times he’d managed to avoid being caught alone with the powerful presence.

Heath shook his head, trying to shake the unnerving reactions Nick Barkley elicited in him. The man’s raw sexuality drew him like a moth to a flame, but Heath wasn’t about to let himself be seduced. Man or woman, Heath’s experience had taught him that all anyone ever wanted of anyone else was to use them, then throw them by the wayside when they tired of them. And Heath wasn’t about to let anyone do that to him, not ever again.

Heath again reconsidered his decision to stay at the Barkleys. He had run into Jarrod again when the lawyer returned late to the ranch one evening and the two men had enjoyed some quiet conversation while Heath helped put up the sorrel horse. He found himself relaxing in response to the other man’s easy manner, the talk ranging from their respective mothers to life on the ranch, even discovering they both had an affinity for the writings of Charles Dickens.

Heath sighed. The pay was good, the work was something he loved and he felt a rare friendship developing with Jarrod. He just didn’t know if all that was worth having to dodge the attentions of the other Barkley brother.

“Scamp! Scampy, get back here, you naughty puppy!”

Gal raised her head, muzzle dripping and Heath turned as well. A young blonde, barely into her teens, was chasing a small lop-eared dog. The puppy made a quick zigzag and ran into the corral, through the legs of several of the animals and spooked the mostly wild horses. One of the mares bolted and made a hasty jump that took her through the top rail of the corral, her panicked flight taking her straight at the young girl.

Before the scene even had a chance to process through his mind, Heath was across the yard and managed to push the girl out of harm’s way. The next thing he knew, he was flying through the air and was barely able to brace himself when the ground rushed up, his world erupting in an explosion of pain, followed by nothing but blackness.

*

“Well, it looks like they’ve managed to round up most of those horses,” Jarrod observed as he handed his mother down from the buggy. “There goes the peace and quiet we’ve had for the past couple days.”

“Oh, Jarrod,” the silver haired woman admonished him with a smile, “you know you miss your brother almost as much as I do when he’s not around.”

Jarrod chuckled. “You know me too well, lovely lady.” He scanned the yard as Victoria retrieved her parcels. “But I don’t hear or see the big lug. Wonder where he is?”

Before Victoria had a chance to respond, a black and white dog dashed in front of the carriage horse, causing it to snort in alarm, followed by a whirlwind of blonde.

“Scamp!”

Jarrod watched in alarm as his little sister chased her puppy closer to the corral with the newly-caught mustangs. “That fool girl’s going to get herself hurt!” he exclaimed suddenly and sprinted after her. He saw the dog dart into the corral, spooking the herd and caught sight of one of the horses leap out in panic. “Audra!” Putting on a burst of speed, Jarrod knew he was going to be too late, knew he wouldn’t be able to reach his little princess before she was trampled under those flying hooves, but he still had to try.

Then another blond streak entered his vision, knocking Audra out of the way before being barrelled over by the galloping horse, flying several feet to land in a crumpled heap. Jarrod finally reached his weeping sister and gathered her into his arms.

“Are you okay, honey? Are you hurt?”

Audra shook her head, crying inconsolably. Victoria rushed up and Jarrod relinquished his sister into her mother’s care.

“Send someone for the doctor, Jarrod,” she ordered her eldest son, “and go check on the young man. We owe him a huge debt of gratitude for saving Audra’s life.”

Jarrod nodded and left after giving Audra’s golden head a loving caress. He reached the inert body at the same time as the foreman.

“I sent Cody for the doc,” Duke told the dark-haired Barkley as they crouched down beside the blond ranch hand. Jarrod nodded, not taking his eyes off Heath and was relieved to see his chest rise and fall.

“Duke, help me get him into the house,” Jarrod told the other man. “His shoulder looks dislocated and I’ll be willing to bet he’s going to wake up with one devil of a headache.” He gave Duke a small grin. “And after what he’s done, Mother’s going to want to pamper him and wait on him hand and foot.”

Duke snickered as he lifted the cowboy’s feet, Jarrod grabbing him under the arms, mindful of the injured shoulder. “Now that’s something I’d being willing to pay to see. Somehow, I don’t think this boy’s the type to cotton to a bunch of mothering.”

“We’ll see what Dr. Merar says before we try to rescue him,” Jarrod chuckled. “If he’s lucky, he may not have to endure Mother’s tender mercies for very long.”

The two men got Heath into the house and up the grand staircase, Jarrod directing Duke to put the unconscious blond in the first guestroom at the top of the stairs. Laying him carefully on the bed, Jarrod was struck again by an uncanny sense that he knew this man, and knew him well. He blinked and the feeling was gone again before he could truly put a finger on it.

“Mr. Jarrod, Mr. Duke, what happened?”

Jarrod turned to find the family retainer standing in the doorway. “There was a bit of an accident, Silas, and this young man saved Audra’s life.” He looked back to the still form on the bed. “We’ll keep an eye on him until the doctor gets here, but other than that, I don’t think there’s much we can do.”

Silas nodded. “And Miss Audra?” he asked, brown eyes concerned.

Jarrod smiled at him reassuringly. “Just a scare, I think. But maybe some cocoa would make her feel better and tea for Mother.”

The older man nodded. “I’ll make it up right away, Mr. Jarrod. And I’ll start a batch of broth for the young man when he’s ready.”

Duke followed Silas to the door. “I’d better make sure everything out there’s under control. Tell Thomson we’re all real proud of him when he wakes up, will you?”

“I will,” Jarrod promised. He pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat, the adrenaline from the recent events finally wearing off to leave him weak and shaky. Jarrod dragged a hand across his face, resting his chin and trying not to think of what would have happened if Heath Thomson hadn’t been there or if the young man didn’t have the inclination to put himself in harm’s way to save a girl he didn’t even know. “Thank you, Heath,” he whispered, grateful beyond measure.

Jarrod had thought of Heath a few times since their talk by the corral and running into him in the barn several nights ago. Even though it was only a brief acquaintance, Jarrod felt himself drawn to the young man. Not in the way his brother Nick was obviously drawn to him, Jarrod reflected ruefully. He knew his brother all too well. When Nick Barkley saw something or someone he wanted, he was ruthless in his pursuit. And Heath Thomson was just the type to tempt the hot-blooded rancher. Nick liked his women beautiful, curvy and voluptuous and his men rugged, virile and well-muscled in equal measure. He hoped Heath either was attracted to Nick in the same way or was made of strong stuff; Nick wasn’t used to having to take ‘no’ for an answer.

In contrast, what Jarrod felt with Heath was an instant connection, like meeting a kindred spirit, which surprised the urbane lawyer since they barely knew each other. He sensed in Heath a quiet, introspective soul and knew instinctively that Heath’s loyalty and friendship was something to be prized and once given, would be unshakeable.

Jarrod stayed by Heath’s side, watching for any signs of consciousness, until Victoria brought the doctor up. He rose to his feet and shook Dr. Merar’s hand in greeting.

“Doctor.”

“Jarrod.” The older physician turned to the young man lying motionless on the bed. “Well, I can see the dislocated shoulder, but I’m going to examine him before I do anything about it. Jarrod, I’ll likely need your help in putting the shoulder back, so if you could stay, that would be appreciated.”

“Just let me know what you need me to do.”

The doctor turned to Victoria. “Victoria, if you’ll excuse us?”

Understanding that Dr. Merar wanted to give the young ranch hand some privacy, Victoria nodded. “Of course, Howard. I’ll be outside in the garden with Audra if you need anything.”

“Jarrod, I’d like you to take off his shirt,” Dr. Merar directed as he opened his medical bag. “Your mother told me what happened. Has Mr. Thomson regained consciousness at all since the accident?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Jarrod said as he started to unbutton the blue shirt. He noticed the buttons had been resewn several times over and in some places the fabric was so thin it wouldn’t stand much more mending. Jarrod was a bit surprised since the Barkleys paid their men well, but then remembered Heath arrived just after last payday and hadn’t received his wages yet. The lawyer made a mental note to add a bonus into Heath’s pay; it was obviously needed and in Jarrod’s mind, more than well-deserved.

Jarrod shook his head when he exposed the muscular chest, revealing several livid purple bruises. Dr. Merar came over to the side of the bed and gently palpated the ribs under the hoofprints, eliciting a soft moan from his patient.

“Seems like he’s got a few cracked ribs to contend with as well,” the white-haired physician observed. He pulled back Heath’s eyelids to check the responses of his pupils. “Doesn’t seem to be a concussion so that’s good. Jarrod, let’s get this shirt off the rest of the way and you can help me with that shoulder. It’ll be easier if we take care of it while he’s still out.” Jarrod and the doctor eased Heath’s arms out of the sleeves.

“Go around the other side,” instructed Dr. Merar as he pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. “I’ll need you to hold him down so I can put it back into place.”

Jarrod nodded his understanding and knelt on the bed at Heath’s right side as the physician stood on the chair, pulling Heath’s arm up. The lawyer draped his arm across the blond’s chest so he could use his weight to hold Heath. Dr. Merar held the arm tightly and pulled steadily.

Heath’s eyes flew open when a sickening ‘pop’ sounded as the shoulder was pulled into place. He struggled to get up, eyes wide with pain and fear.

“Leave me alone! Didn’t do nothin’ wrong, just let me be… I swear I won’t tell, just don’t hurt me no more…” The shout faded into a feeble whimper.

Jarrod leaned over Heath, mindful of the broken ribs, but effectively pinning him to the bed. From the trapped look in his eyes, Jarrod had a feeling Heath wasn’t in the here and now and he knew he didn’t ever want to be where the other man was at that moment. He regretted the agony they were causing and murmured reassuringly, “It’s all right, Heath, you’re safe. You’re at the Barkley Ranch and the doc’s just fixing you up after you were almost trampled. It’s okay, Heath, you’re okay,” he repeated soothingly until the wild look faded from the blue eyes and the other man lapsed back into unconsciousness. Jarrod released his hold, sighing in relief.

Dr. Merar felt around the shoulder. “Seems like everything’s where it should be.” He got up and went back to his bag. “Jarrod, if you can sit him up a bit, I’ll wrap those ribs. That’ll be the last I can do and then we’ll just have to let time do its work.”

Jarrod inhaled sharply as he lifted Heath to brace him against his own shoulder. Crisscrossing the blond’s back were a web of old, fine scars, overlaid with the more livid marks of injuries improperly healed. The only time he’d seen injuries like that… Jarrod shuddered. He didn’t want to think of the horrors that had caused the similar scars he’d encountered before; surely Heath was too young to have endured something like that.

Dr. Merar raised an eyebrow as he, too, noticed the marks while bandaging Heath’s broken ribs. “This body’s seen a lot of damage,” he commented. “Know anything about him?”

“Not really,” Jarrod admitted. “Duke hired him on a little over a week ago. Heath told me his mother lives up in Strawberry.”

“Hmmm.” Finished with the ribs, Dr. Merar packed away his supplies. “Make sure he stays put for the next couple days. Like I said, I don’t see any signs of concussion, but you and your brother have hit those hard Barkley heads of yours enough times that you and your mother should know what to look for. Call me if you need to and I’ll be back to check on him tomorrow.”

“Thanks, doc.” Jarrod walked the physician out and said farewell before closing the door behind him. He put his hands in his pockets and sighed, heading into the parlour for a drink before going back upstairs to sit with Heath. He’d just poured himself a scotch when he heard footsteps and turned around to see his mother and little sister enter the room. Quickly setting the glass on the table, Jarrod strode over and swept Audra into his arms.

“How are you feeling, honey?”

“I’m okay, Jarrod,” Audra reassured him. “Is Mr. Thomson all right? He saved my life and I want to tell him how grateful I am.”

“He’s a little banged up,” Jarrod told her, kissing the top of her blonde head, “and he’s upstairs sleeping right now. But I’ll let you know when he’s ready for a visitor, okay?”

“Okay.” Audra hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry for scaring you, Jarrod.”

Jarrod took her face between his hands and detected a glint of tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you, princess. Promise you’ll be more careful?”

Audra nodded fervently. “I promise.” She turned to her mother. “May I go upstairs and read for a bit, Mother?”

“Of course, dear.”

Audra gave both of them a bright, dimpled smile and dashed up the stairs.

“And how is the young man?” Victoria asked of her dark-haired son.

Jarrod picked up his glass and took another drink. “Dr. Merar thinks he’ll be all right with time. A dislocated shoulder and a few broken ribs, but he doesn’t think there’s a concussion. I’m just going to grab some paperwork and sit with him for a bit.”

“Oh, I can do that, Jarrod,” Victoria told him, placing a hand on his arm.

Jarrod smiled as he gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sure you can, lovely lady, but somehow, I don’t think Heath Thomson is the type to appreciate being mothered by someone not his own mother.”

Victoria sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Just don’t forget to come down and grab some supper. I’ll make sure Silas leaves you a plate.”

Jarrod went into the library, going through the papers on the desk to find the latest figures on Barkley Sierra Mining and any other odds and ends from the vast Barkley empire that needed going over. Accidentally knocking over a small frame, Jarrod reached down to pick it up and froze when he glanced at the picture.

It was a photograph of his parents taken not long after they were married. Tom Barkley was clean-shaven, not yet having the full beard Jarrod had always remembered him wearing. His fair hair hadn’t receded and the strength in his youthful face indicated the firm, autocratic man he would become.

It was the same face that was on the man who was lying injured in the bed upstairs.

Jarrod almost dropped the photograph, but regained his composure enough to set it gently back on the desk. Those feelings of déjà vu, that he knew Heath without having met him before, suddenly came home to rest. He knew him because Heath Thomson was a dead ringer for Thomas Barkley and resembled the man in a way his legitimate sons did not.

Heath Thomson was his brother.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part contains some more dialogue borrowed and modified from the series pilot, “Palms of Glory”

Jarrod looked up from his book when a low moan came from the bed. He was determined to sit vigil throughout the night with the young man his heart told him was his brother even thought his lawyer’s mind continued to tell him otherwise.

 _Father, how could you?_ Jarrod’s thoughts screamed silently as he went to the side of the bed to check on the injured blond. _How could you betray Mother, betray all of us like that?_ Heath tossed restlessly and Jarrod thought he felt a bit warm. He grabbed a towel and wet it in the basin beside the bed, using the cool water to bathe Heath’s brow.

The blond only shifted again, his movements becoming more agitated. Thinking to calm him, Jarrod placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, Heath, you’re---“

Heath bolted upright in the bed, lashing out at Jarrod and knocking him back several feet. “Get your filthy hands offa me!” he snarled, but the growl turned into a moan of pain as he moved away.

Jarrod picked himself up off the floor, shaking his head to clear it. In the dim light of the lamp, he noticed the wariness in the eyes of the man on the bed and cautiously approached him. “It’s all right, Heath,” he said as calmly as possible. “No one’s going to hurt you here, I promise.”

“Ya don’t sound like a reb,” the other voice said hesitantly after a moment, and Jarrod knew Heath was lost again in some other time and place.

“No, I’m from California,” Jarrod replied cautiously.

“What unit?”

The seemingly innocuous question confirmed Jarrod’s suspicion that Heath had indeed served in the War in spite of his young age and the older man was appalled. Heath couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve when hostilities broke out between the North and South.

“Ninth Cavalry.”

“Ninth Cavalry? How’d ya end up in a hellhole like this?”

Jarrod’s mind flashed back to the marks on Heath’s back. He knew he had seen scars like that before, on the backs of prisoners liberated from Libby and Andersonville at the end of the war, caused by lashes from cruel whippings left untreated or attempted to be cleaned with the polluted mess that was the only water the prisoners had access to.

“You’re not there anymore,” he tried to assure Heath, cringing at the thought that a brother of his might have been subjected to horrors Jarrod could only imagine. “The war’s over, you’re safe now.”

Heath’s blue eyes looked at him suspiciously. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would ya, Yank?”

“Never, Heath,” Jarrod told him, his voice unshakeable with conviction. Heath closed his eyes and sighed, the tension draining from his face. “How about some water?”

“Sounds good.” Heath accepted Jarrod’s help in taking a few sips from the offered cup before sinking back against the pillows to fall asleep.

Jarrod sank back into his chair. Suddenly, the regret he’d carried around for years, regret at failing his father and not living up to his expectations turned into rage. How dare his father judge anyone? How dare he tell his son he’d let the family down by not following in the great Tom Barkley’s footsteps? Jarrod snorted in disgust. The family founder had let them all down more than he’d ever accused Jarrod of doing.

“I’ll make it up to you, Heath,” Jarrod whispered. “However our father failed you, I’ll make it right, I swear.”

*

Jarrod went into town to his office early the next morning. He had a few pressing things he needed to take care of so he could be gone for a few days. Last night, he determined he needed proof of his suspicions before broaching them to anyone else. Heath had told him he was from Strawberry and Jarrod figured that was probably the best place to start. Tom Barkley had owned a silver mine there once, right about the time Jarrod assumed Heath was conceived.

Jarrod had only been eight at the time, but even though he had been too young to understand, he remembered the sadness of missing his father and his happiness at Tom’s eventual return marred by shouting and tension between his parents. He remembered the word ‘Strawberry’ yelled in anger and remembered the relief he felt when he overheard they were selling the mine in the little town.

The dark-haired lawyer shook his head, saddened by the pain he knew he’d be bringing to his mother when he proved his convictions. But he knew Victoria Barkley; knew she’d be the first to urge him to find out the truth. Now Nick, on the other hand…

Jarrod sighed. Nick had idolized their father; practically worshipping the ground the man had walked on. He was going to take his father’s infidelity hard and Jarrod knew his proof would have to be irrefutable before Nick would accept it. Add to that the hunger Jarrod noticed in the rancher’s intense hazel eyes whenever he looked at Heath and Jarrod knew he was going to have a devil of a time with his volatile younger brother.

Jarrod thought about waiting until Nick got back from trying to catch that stallion and talk to him, tell him his suspicions before Nick had a chance to act on his urges. But Jarrod knew he needed that proof before he’d have a hope of Nick believing him and just prayed the Barkley luck would hold until Jarrod came back and keep Nick away from Heath. It was only a couple days to Strawberry and back, after all.

A light tap came on the door and Jarrod’s secretary poked her head in. “Mr. Barkley, Misters Swenson, Sample and Worth are here to see you. They say it’s urgent.”

“Send them in, Anna.” Jarrod stood and walked out from behind his desk to greet the long-time friends and neighbours of the Barkleys. “Sig, Frank, Abe,” Jarrod said, shaking each man’s hand in turn. “What can I do for you?”

Sig Swenson slapped a paper into Jarrod’s hand. “Hannibal Jordan just had these papers served to each of us. It says I have to pay twenty-five dollars an acre, for my own land or they take it out from under me!”

Jarrod perused the paper as Swenson continued. “I was going to feed this thing to my goat, but I figured, hey, I oughta show it to you first, for a laugh.” The smile faded from the grey-haired man’s face when he saw Jarrod wasn’t laughing.

“You each got one?” At the other men’s nods, Jarrod gritted his teeth. “I knew it couldn’t be over that easily,” the lawyer muttered bitterly, handing the notice back to Swenson. “I’m just surprised it took the railroad so long to make their next move. I guess a three years’ truce is all my father’s death managed to accomplish.” He looked at each of the farmers, men who had come to the valley at the same time as Tom Barkley, who had toiled and sweated to make a life for themselves and their families. “That gives a deadline of two weeks from now. I’ll take the next train to Sacramento, get an appointment with the governor and put a stop to this.”

“I knew we could count on you, Jarrod,” Frank Sample said as he shook the younger man’s hand fervently. “Our daddies fought and died for this. Let’s show them we’re our daddys’ sons and we’re not afraid of what they can do.”

“Keep up that attitude, Frank, and the railroad won’t stand a chance. I’ll let you know what happens, gentlemen. Now, I have to get our case ready to present to the governor.” Jarrod knew it wasn’t going to be that easy, but he had to put on a brave front and give them a feeling of hope. He walked the three men to the door and shook hands in farewell before turning back to the bookshelves lining the wall and selecting a volume on property law. His trip to Strawberry was going to have to wait.


	7. Chapter 7

Heath awoke in a panic, not sure where he was. His head throbbed unmercifully, his shoulder felt like it was on fire and every breath he took sent stabbing pains into his chest.

 _Oh, God,_ was his first thought, _I’ve got to escape, can’t let them…_

His eyes started to focus and instead of the ripped canvas he expected, he saw light curtains lazily flapping in the breeze. Instead of clammy, sucking mud, Heath found himself lying on a soft mattress, covered by a quilt smelling of soap and lilacs. Heath tried to sit up, but quickly aborted that plan when the motion sent fire lancing through his left shoulder. He closed his eyes, listening to the faint whinny of horses and the occasional shout that came through the open window.

 _Where am I?_ he asked himself. He’d never been in this room before, he’d swear to that, and strained to clear his fuzzy memory. A girl… Foggily, it started to come back to him. The girl, running after her dog; the spooked horse, heading straight for the girl…

The horse must’ve ran into him before he got out of the way and Heath could only hope he’d been able to push the girl away from harm. Gingerly, he tried to sit again, keeping his left arm as still as possible and breathed as heavy a sigh as he could when he finally rested semi-upright against the headboard. He lay there for a moment, then swung his legs slowly over the side of the bed, stopping when the movement increased the pounding in his head and the room started to spin.

“Young man, what do you think you’re doing?”

Heath looked up at the imperious tone and was surprised to see a petite silver haired woman standing in the doorway, hands firmly on her hips. Alarmed, Heath quickly looked down and was relieved to find he was still wearing his pants. He felt a bit exposed having no shirt, but at least the bandages covered most of his torso. Then he felt a hot blush starting at the thought that this woman might have been the one to doctor him…

“I asked you, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh, getting up, ma’am?” Heath offered slowly. “Reckon there’s a lot of work to be done and I ain’t gonna be much use lying around in this bed.”

“Oh, no,” she told him, advancing into the room, shaking a scolding finger in his direction. “Dr. Merar said you should be in bed and that’s just where you’re going to stay.”

“Ma’am, I really shouldn’t be here,” Heath tried again, standing and catching himself on the bedpost as the room spun alarmingly. “If you’ll just tell me where I can find my boots and shirt…”

“Not a chance.” The woman grabbed him firmly but gently by his good arm and sat him down on the bed, Heath surprised at the strength in her small frame. “Now listen here, Mr. Thomson, you saved my daughter’s life and for that I owe you a debt of gratitude. Plus, from all reports, you’re a very hard worker and we need those around here. So let’s just say I’m paying off my debts and protecting my family’s investment.”

The steely determination in her grey eyes reminded Heath of his own mother and he reluctantly acquiesced. “Yes, ma’am.” He sat uncomfortably as she fussed with the pillows, then had to ask, “Are you Mrs. Barkley, ma’am? Nick and Jarrod’s mother?”

“Yes, I am,” she told him with a proud smile. “And that gives me a wealth of experience in dealing with stubborn young men. Now, is there anything I can get you? Something to eat, perhaps? I know you may not feel like eating yet, but it’s important to keep up your strength. I have some broth on the stove; I’ll bring you up a bowl and maybe some biscuits.” With that she left the room in a whoosh of skirts, leaving Heath a bit speechless. _Boy howdy, that woman’s a force to be reckoned with,_ Heath thought in amusement, _guess she has to be to be a mother to someone like the boss._

In no time at all, Mrs. Barkley was back with a tray containing a bowl of savoury smelling broth and a plate of fluffy biscuits. She set it down on the table beside the bed before turning back to Heath. “Now, is there anything else you need?”

“My boots?” Heath asked hopefully.

She gave him a knowing smile. “Not until the doctor says,” she said succinctly.

Heath thought of something he did need. “Ma’am, the little girl… Is she okay?”

Mrs. Barkley smiled softly. “She’s fine, Mr. Thomson. All Audra received was a scare and, hopefully, a lesson to be more careful.”

“Glad to hear it,” Heath said thankfully. “And ma’am?” he added as she turned to leave him to his meal. “As I told your son, Jarrod, I ain’t a mister. Name’s just Heath.”

Again she smiled and again Heath thought of his mama back home in Strawberry.

“Enjoy your meal, Heath. If you need anything, just call and someone will here. I’ll be back in a while to collect the tray.”

As Heath settled back to eat, he experienced a small pang of homesickness. _When I get a few days off, Mama,_ he thought, _I’ll come home to see you. I miss you, Mama._

*

Victoria was in the dining room, polishing the silver. She always found that the task helped soothe her mind when she was agitated or worried, but this time, she had no idea what was bothering her. Audra was safe and the young man who saved her life was upstairs recuperating. The spectre of the railroad conflict that had killed her husband three years ago had again reared its ugly head, but she was confident her capable lawyer son would solve it with words this time, not with bullets. Nick was off in the hills after a wild stallion, not the safest of pursuits, but no more dangerous than some of the other day-to-day tasks of running a large ranch.

Victoria rubbed the silver chafing dish, trying to pin down her thoughts. They kept returning to the guestroom upstairs and its blond occupant, but for the life of her, Victoria couldn’t figure out why.

“Mother! Jarrod!”

Victoria gave a long-suffering sigh as she put down her polishing and went out to the foyer.

“Mother?!”

“Nicholas, must you assault my eardrums every time you enter this house?”

Nick gave his mother a charming dimpled grin as he grabbed her arms and gave her an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. “Can I help it if I’m in a good mood?” he asked. “Now where’s that brother of mine? I’ve gotta show him ol’ Diablo. Mother, I caught that stallion and I can tell you he is amazing and that is a fact! Jarrod!” he hollered up the stairs.

“Nick, keep your voice down,” Victoria chastised him severely. “Jarrod isn’t here and we have an injured man convalescing in the guestroom at the top of the stairs.”

“Injured man?” Nick asked as he took off his gloves. “Who? And why is he in our guestroom?”

“That new hand, Heath Thomson. He saved Audra from being trampled under the hooves of one of those wild mustangs.” Victoria wondered at the brief, strangely elated expression of her son’s face before it was replaced with a look of concern.

“Audra? Is she all right? She wasn’t hurt, was she?”

Victoria placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “She’s fine, Nick, thanks to young Heath. He suffered a dislocated shoulder and a couple broken ribs, but Howard assures me he’ll be fine. But,” and she said this in a tone that brooked no argument, “you are not to force him back to work until he’s cleared by the doctor. I don’t care if this is a working ranch, Heath Thomson is going to take the time he needs to heal. Is that understood?”

“What do you think I am, Mother?” Nick said, feigning hurt. “I’d never give a man work he wasn’t fit to do.” He looked up the stairs. “Maybe I’ll go check and see how he’s doing.”

Victoria shook her head. “No, you won’t. I checked on him not that long ago and he’s sleeping. You can go thank him after dinner.”

Nick took a step towards the stairs anyway, and then turned back. “All right. You said Jarrod’s not home? Is he working late in town or something?”

Victoria sighed. “Or something. You probably haven’t heard yet, but I suppose you will soon. The railroad’s after land in the valley again. Hannibal Jordan issued notices to a handful of landowners and Jarrod headed off to Sacramento to see if he can get the governor to put a stop to it.”

Nick shook his head in frustration. “Mother, the only thing those vultures respect is force. If Pappy thinks he can just sweet-talk those politicians in the capitol and put a stop to this, he’s dead wrong. There isn’t a court in the state the railroad doesn’t own, it’s fight or nothing! Twelve men died with Father last time, dammit, how many more is it going to take?!”

“Nicholas, I will not hear that kind of language in my house!” Victoria demanded and Nick hung his head, chagrined. “We have to give Jarrod’s way a chance before you go in, guns blazing! I’ve already lost your father, I don’t want to lose you too!”

“Now, Mother…”

“Don’t you ‘now Mother’ me, Nick Barkley,” she admonished him. “It may come down to a fight and you wouldn’t be your father’s son if you didn’t stand up for what you believe in. But give Jarrod a chance. If anyone can sweet-talk those politicians, it’s your brother.”

Nick smiled disarmingly. “Well, reckon that’s a fact. Pappy can charm the spots right off an appaloosa.” He slung an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “So what’s for dinner? I’m starving!”

*

“Hey there, Thomson. Mother sent me up with something for you to eat. Hear you’re stuck in bed for a while.” Nick bit back a chuckle as the blond in the bed pulled the quilt up quickly to cover himself, but not before he got an eyeful of the broad, muscular shoulders.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe Heath was just shy and Nick’s usual cut-to-the-chase manner was spooking him. Even though it wasn’t his usual style, Nick didn’t mind a slow seduction once in a while and decided to change his tactics.

Nick set the tray down on the bedside table and sat himself on the bed next to Heath. There was no way he was going to try anything blatant, not in the house with his mother and sister nearby, but having Heath this close and unable to find an excuse to leave was just too tempting. He grabbed Heath’s good shoulder and squeezed it affectionately, ignoring the wary look in the sky-blue eyes.

“Wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you putting your life on the line to save my baby sister,” Nick told the younger cowboy and his hand started to massage the smooth skin. Heath tensed, but didn’t say anything. “Reckon the family owes you a lot.” His hand slipped up higher to caress the side of Heath’s neck.

The blond abruptly moved, stifling a small gasp of pain. “Don’t think nothing of it,” he said quietly. “Anybody would’ve done the same.”

Nick dropped his hand back to Heath’s shoulder. “Well, if you need anything,” he said huskily, “anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask. My room’s right next door.” He gave Heath’s shoulder another slow squeeze before getting to his feet and heading for the door. As Nick opened the door, he turned back. “Remember, anything.”

Nick shut the door behind him and headed to his own room, his mind still on the occupant of the neighbouring room. He removed his black leather vest and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, stripping the garment off before sitting on the edge of his bed to remove his boots. Standing again, he unbuttoned his trousers and slipped them off his hips, brushing against the erection that had started when he touched Heath’s golden skin. Those touches just inflamed his desire for the young man, but Nick knew he should back off for a bit, at least until Heath’s injuries had a chance to heal.

He was grateful to Heath for saving his little sister and that selfless act made his regard for the other man increase a notch. Heath was a hard worker, never complaining, and Nick found that he missed him when Heath headed off with the captured herd. Missed not only watching his ass in those tight pants, but missed his quietness and that rare grin that graced the blond’s face when he thought no one was looking. Nick wanted to get to know Heath better, as a friend as well as a lover.

Not bothering to remove his pants further, Nick took his cock in a firm grip and squeezed slowly, pulling all the way to the tip before moving back down again. He closed his eyes as he braced himself against the bed and imagined it was Heath’s hand grabbing him, pleasuring him, and he began stroke more steadily, working his shaft roughly. He pictured burying himself in Heath’s tight ass, surrounded by that delicious heat and his hips bucked into his hand as the images in his mind only fuelled the burn in his groin. His hand pumped rapidly, and with one last thrust, his body tensed, hips arching into his hand as milky streams erupted from the purple tip. Nick’s breath was ragged as he finished himself off, sinking to his knees.

“Oh, god, Heath,” he whispered, “I can’t wait until we do this for real. But I’ll take it slow, woo you and romance you until finally I can make you mine.”

*

Heath awoke with a start, sweating, heart racing as his lungs gasped for breath. It was only a nightmare, he told himself, but in his mind, he’d been eight years old again, back in the storeroom of the hotel. He could still feel his uncle’s hot breath down the back of his neck, feel the man’s hands roaming across his hips, unbuttoning his pants so he could…

Heath shook his head sharply, unmindful of the throbbing the abrupt movement caused. He wasn’t that helpless kid anymore; he was a grown man, able to defend himself. He shivered as he remembered Nick Barkley’s touches, the touches that had undoubtedly instigated the nightmare. That caress had set off an unsettling mix of revulsion and longing in the young cowboy and Heath knew he had to get away. At least he could get out from under the same roof as his tormentor and head back to his bunk with the rest of the crew where Nick couldn’t get him alone. He slowly got to his feet and started a painful search for his boots and shirt, finding them tucked neatly in the wardrobe. He said a silent apology to Mrs. Barkley for not heeding her advice to stay put and headed away from the grand mansion, back to the relative security of the bunkhouse.


	8. Chapter 8

Jarrod paused at the door to the large, non-descript house on the edge of the city. Only a week until the railroad’s deadline and he still hadn’t made any headway with getting the governor or the Supreme Court of California to declare the land grab illegal or unconstitutional. Jarrod knew he had swayed a few of the movers and shakers in the state capitol to his side, but it wasn’t enough, not yet anyway. Frustrated and discouraged, the young lawyer couldn’t sit in his hotel room any longer that evening and had wandered out in search of a means to relieve the frustration that just continued to build.

His wandering footsteps had brought him to this house, a place his father had taken him not long before the arguments that resulted in Jarrod’s leaving home against his father’s wishes to pursue his career in law. As a young man of seventeen, Jarrod had been surprised and excited when he found out where they were going, the thrill of anticipation overshadowing the disquiet that his father, supposedly happily married to his mother, was familiar with such a place. He’d pushed aside the uneasiness he felt when Tom disappeared upstairs with one of the ladies who worked at the establishment, losing himself in the delights and forbidden pleasures his inexperienced but eager body was initiated into by the woman whose services had been contracted for that very purpose.

Jarrod clenched his fist, anger again building at the man he’d looked up to for all those years. He’d known; he’d been there when his father went to lie with a woman not his wife and in the past had tried not to dwell on it, telling himself his father was a man; that a man had needs a woman couldn’t always understand. Now Jarrod knew it was all just a lie to preserve his father’s standing in his son’s trusting eyes.

At that moment, Jarrod made a vow that he would never turn away from responsibility if he discovered one of his liaisons ended up producing a child and that he would never betray his vows and seek out another woman when he eventually married.

Jarrod took a deep breath and pushed open the door, a small bell tinkling to announce his arrival. A breathtakingly beautiful woman came into the foyer and smiled sensually when she saw who was at her door.

“Why, Jarrod Barkley, it’s been too long,” she gushed.

Jarrod removed his hat. “Hello, Carmen,” he greeted as the stately redhead clasped his hands warmly and returned the kiss she bestowed on his cheek.

“Let me take your hat,” she offered and placed it on the hall table. She took Jarrod’s arm and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, guiding him through an open doorway and into a well-appointed parlour.

“So, what can I do for my favorite lawyer tonight?” Carmen asked as she poured a measure of brandy into a glass and handed it to him.

“Now, Carmen,” Jarrod chided with a smile, “I think you know my tastes almost as well as I do.”

The sultry redhead laughed, a rich hearty sound. “I believe I do, but one never knows when a man might want to try something a little different. But I think I have just what you’re looking for. There’s a new girl who started working here a couple weeks ago and from what I’ve been told, she gets high marks for her eagerness and enthusiasm. Just your type, I would say.”

Jarrod lifted his glass in a salute and with a rakish wink, told her, “As I said, Carmen, you know my tastes.”

Carmen gave him a brilliant smile. “I’ll go make sure Ruthie’s ready. I’m assuming you’ll keep her occupied the entire night?”

“As long as she can keep up,” Jarrod confirmed, a devilish smile on his lips.

Carmen just shook her head in amusement, knowing what it was like to keep up with Jarrod Barkley. “Make yourself comfortable, Jarrod, and I’ll be right back.”

It wasn’t long before the madam returned to escort him up the red-carpeted staircase, down a well-appointed hall. Jarrod could hear muffled sounds of pleasure coming from behind most of the closed doors and his groin tightened in anticipation.

Carmen stopped in front of one of the doors. “Have a good time,” she said and made her graceful way back down the hall.

Jarrod rapped lightly on the door before entering the room, never forgetting the manners taught since childhood. The lamps were low and Jarrod’s gaze travelled directly to the bed and the voluptuous woman reclining there. Her hair shone a honey-gold in the lamplight and she was clad in a gown of amber silk, the gown consisting of not much more than a corset and skirt barely long enough to cover the tops of her thighs. Jarrod felt his flesh harden as he slowly strolled over to the side of the bed, eyes devouring the creamy bosom pushed up over the top of her décolletage, roving to the trim waist and generous hips that led to a pair of soft, shapely legs.

“What’s your pleasure, handsome?” she asked in a soft, lilting voice.

Jarrod unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants, freeing his straining erection and smiling when her eyes widened at the size of it. “Tonight, you,” he told her in his sultry baritone, blue eyes darkening with desire as he quickly shed his clothes and straddled her inviting thighs. Jarrod wasted no time unhooking the corset, exposing a pair of luscious breasts. He took one in each hand, tweaking and pinching the rosy tips as he leaned forward to take her lips in an ardent kiss. “I hope to be your pleasure tonight as well.”

“Mmmm,” she moaned as his talented fingers caused her nipples to harden, “I’m sure you will.”

Jarrod’s lips left hers to trail light kisses across the line of her jaw, nipping and sucking at her neck and collarbone. “Ruthie, I believe Carmen called you?”

“Mmm hmm,” Ruthie breathed, running her hands over the firm muscles of his back and reaching down to squeeze his well-toned ass.

“Well, Ruthie,” Jarrod said as his lips reached one of her taut peaks, “I know you’re being paid to pleasure me, but it wouldn’t be as much of a pleasure if you weren’t enjoying yourself too. So as long as you’re willing to do whatever I ask of you,” he bit lightly, making her gasp, “I’m perfectly willing to do what you ask of me.”

“I think I can agree to that,” Ruthie whispered and Jarrod came up to claim her lips again.

“Good.” Jarrod knelt between her legs, pulling her skirt off to expose the nest of hair at the top of her thighs, and, finding her already wet, grasped his shaft firmly and impaled her with a single thrust, causing Ruthie to gasp in shock. “We’ll have all night to take our time,” he informed her as he withdrew only to plunge into her again, “but first…” Jarrod closed his eyes as he grabbed the iron rails of the headboard, using them for leverage as he fucked the blonde whore like a man possessed, keeping half a thought on his partner to make sure her cries and moans weren’t ones of pain, but most of his awareness was on the carnal pleasure building in his body.

Ruthie wrapped her legs around him and Jarrod felt the burn begin at the base of his balls and drove into her harder, wave after wave of euphoria overtaking him as he spurted his seed deep within her. Breathing hard, Jarrod collapsed on top of her as he slowly came back to himself. He lifted up onto his forearms and gave Ruthie’s luscious lips a long, languorous kiss, the blonde breathing hard herself.

“Now,” Jarrod murmured as his lips travelled down her neck and chest, “I have another idea, if you have no objections.” His mouth continued its downward progress, pausing to taste her navel as his arms slipped under her thighs, lifting and spreading them as he eyed the moist petals that unfolded before him. Leaning forward, his tongue sought and found the small nub nestled there.

“You don’t have to…” Ruthie gasped as he took it between his lips and sucked gently.

“I suppose I could stop if you want,” Jarrod teased huskily and Ruthie just responded by lacing her fingers in his dark hair. Jarrod’s tongue darted down to her warm opening, dipping in and tasting the cum that seeped out, relishing the juices that were a mixture of his and hers. He reached a hand up and grabbed a full breast, kneading and fondling as he thrust his tongue inside her over and over. No, he didn’t have to do this, most girls of Ruthie’s profession were used to giving satisfaction to their customers and not receiving any themselves. But even though he would pay her handsomely for her services, Jarrod wanted and needed the pleasures of sex to be mutual. Besides, he thought wickedly as pushed harder, raking her pleasure spot lightly with his teeth, it gave him an opportunity to recover so he’d be ready to go again almost immediately.

Sure enough, as Ruthie’s moans grew louder and she gripped his hair more tightly and her hips pushed against his mouth in the throes of her climax, Jarrod’s manhood swelled again, ready for a second round. He kept his lips pressed against her, licking her sensitive flesh gently as her orgasm subsided.

“Oh my god,” Ruthie moaned, “that was the most incredible…”

Jarrod moved back up to sit beside her, using one hand to brush the sweat soaked hair off her face while the other moved down to stroke his needy length.

“Well, I aim to please,” he said, a sensual smile on his lips. “But I wouldn’t mind some of the same myself, whenever you’re ready.”

“Give me a minute?” Ruthie pleaded, her breath still coming deep and fast.

“Of course, darling,” Jarrod assured her and leaned back against the pillows, working his swollen phallus slowly and firmly, needing some stimulation while he waited.

Taking a last deep breath, Ruthie rolled over and smiled at the sight of Jarrod pleasuring himself. “I think that’s what you’re paying me for,” she told him, taking Jarrod’s hand and placing it over his head. She straddled his thighs and as she swallowed his erection, working it with her lips and tongue, Jarrod relaxed back against the pillows.

“I want something more, baby,” he murmured, thoroughly enjoying the attention being lavished on his cock, but wanting to be taken to ultimate heights. He moved his legs out from under her, bending his knees to open himself up. He took Ruthie’s hand and guided it to the crack between his cheeks. “Put your fingers in me.”

Ruthie obliged, wetting her fingers with saliva before inserting first one, then another finger into his tight hole. She brushed against his prostate, a flash of pleasure travelling from deep inside Jarrod’s ass to his penis. Jarrod’s hands gripped the sheets tightly to stop himself from thrusting before he choked her as she worked her fingers in and out, teasing his hard gland. Her mouth glided along his shaft, sucking and licking in time to the motion of her fingers.

“Oh, god, baby,” Jarrod moaned, overwhelmed by sensation. His awareness was focused solely between his legs as his world exploded, his hips arching up as stream after stream of hot ejaculate spewed down Ruthie’s throat. She continued to stroke him inside and Jarrod’s body shuddered with every touch until he finally collapsed. Ruthie let him go and slipped up, leaning across his chest to lightly kiss his lips.

“I take it that’s what you were after?” she asked provocatively. Jarrod wrapped his arms around her tightly and kissed her hard and deep.

“For starters,” he told her, blue eyes smoldering. Carmen was right; Ruthie’s eagerness and enthusiasm did get high marks and as Jarrod rolled back on top of her, continuing to plunder her mouth with tongue and lips, he knew he’d arrive at tomorrow’s meeting as refreshed and relaxed as he could possibly be.


	9. Chapter 9

Heath lay on his bunk, trying to ignore the throbbing of his shoulder. So far, Nick or Mrs. Barkley hadn’t come looking for him and the ranch foreman didn’t question his appearance back in the bunkhouse, he only told him to follow doctor’s orders and stay put and rest. Heath squirmed uncomfortably. He hated being idle, having worked to support him and his mama for as long as he could remember. And nothing to occupy his hands meant nothing to occupy his mind, leaving his thoughts to wander down whatever dark road they chose. Heath shuddered, pushing away thoughts of his Uncle Matt, only to have those memories be replaced by ones of the guards at Carterson leering evilly at him, avid to have a boy like Heath under their power. The blond sat up abruptly at the recollections of the atrocities he’d experienced at the nefarious Confederate prison, but that abrupt movement caused his ribs to scream in pain.

“Now, young man, that isn’t what I intended when I recommended you rest.”

Heath gritted his teeth, waiting for the pain to subside. He looked at the greying man who was pulling up a chair next to his bunk.

“I feel fine, doc,” Heath tried to protest, but Dr. Merar looked at him with a sternly paternal expression.

“Right,” the doctor said noncommittally. “Unbutton your shirt, please.”

Heath thought about ignoring the request but got the feeling the doctor wasn’t about to leave without performing his examination. Reluctantly, Heath unbuttoned his shirt.

Dr. Merar listened to Heath’s breathing and inspected his shoulder. He had him follow a finger with just his eyes and looked carefully at Heath’s pupils.

“You’ll be fine as long as you don’t overdo it,” the doctor pronounced. “I want you to rest for a few more days and then light duties for a while. I’ll let Duke know.”

“Can I get up and do something, doc? Anything? I’m gonna go crazy if I have to lie here much longer.” Heath willed himself to keep any sign of pleading out of his voice.

The doctor shook his head with a faint smile. “I’ll tell the foreman you can do anything that involves sitting down and not using your left arm,” he told the cowboy. “That’s the best I can do if you want those ribs and that shoulder to heal properly.

Heath sighed, but knew that was the most of a concession he was going to get. “Thanks, doc.”

A week later, the injured cowboy was heartily tired of being stuck behind the table in the small office that served the foreman as a desk, tallying up head counts of the Barkley cattle from the last few months. Heath was good at sums, but longed to be outside in the wind and sunshine and even more wished he was riding his beloved Gal. Coming to the last set of numbers, Heath tossed down the pencil and sighed with relief. He glanced out the window and noted from the sun’s position that it wasn’t quite dinnertime yet and Heath had a sudden desire to be free. He wasn’t sure if the doctor wanted him riding yet, but surely he could go out to the paddock and spend some time with his treasured horse. Feeling the wicked pleasure of a boy ditching school, he snuck outside, mentally defying anyone to catch and chastise him.

As he approached the fence, the little black mare noticed him and her ears pricked up, her gait eager as she walked over, picking up her hooves daintily like the lady she was. Heath rubbed her forehead and scratched behind her ears and Gal leaned into him, giving a sigh of pleasure.

“I missed you too, little Gal,” Heath crooned, grabbing her mane and pulling her head forward to touch his. “We’ll head out soon, I promise. They treating you right out here?”

“Course we’re treating her right,” a voice boomed from behind, making Heath flinch. “She’s a smart little cowpony, that one.”

Heath turned warily to face the tall rancher who was leaning against the fence. Nick Barkley pushed back his hat and gave Heath a rakish grin.

“You two been together long?”

Heath nodded, his expression guarded. “Yep.”

“Where’d you come across her?”

Obviously, Nick had never heard of the code, that you never ask a man too many questions. Heath had already figured that the quickest way to get his boss to leave him alone was by answering, but he was determined to give the most basic answers possible.

“My mama got her for me.” Heath thought of the pride on his mama’s face when she presented him with the horse not long after he’d returned home from the war. He rubbed her neck, the soft feel of her coat soothing him, knowing he had one friend who would never let him down.

“Is that a fact?” Nick leaned over the fence, giving the black an appreciative look. “Your mama knows good horseflesh, that’s for certain.”

There was a long pause and Heath continued stroking Gal, hoping Nick would go find someone else to bother. But Nick had other ideas.

“Hey, Heath, I was going to check out a couple of the closer line shacks, make sure they’re in good repair and stocked right,” the dark rancher said. “An easy couple hours ride. How about joining me?”

Heath looked at Nick, cautious of the other man’s motives. But there was nothing overtly threatening in those hazel eyes, a suspicious glint perhaps, but nothing more. Heath knew he should turn him down, but the prospect of riding and getting out of that room, even though his shoulder and ribs were still tender and even though he was going to be in the sole company of Nick, was more than Heath could resist.

“Reckon I could go along,” he replied slowly, pushing away any misgivings he had.

“Great!” Nick said, clapping him on his good shoulder. Heath tensed at the contact. “If you can get that mare to the barn, I’ll help you get her saddled. You gotta take it easy on that arm of yours, doc’s orders, right?”

Nick gave him a boost once the horses were saddled and the two men rode out at an easy lope.

Gal’s gait was smooth and the mare’s motion hardly made his ribs and shoulder any more sore than they were before. They weren’t quite flying like the wind, but it was fast enough to give Heath the sense of freedom he so desperately needed. He hated being cooped up indoors; out here, riding his beloved horse, that was where Heath knew he truly belonged.

On the way down the bank of a small wash, a section of gravel came loose under Gal’s hooves. The mare tried valiantly to regain her footing, but stumbled, sending her to the ground and her rider head over heels. Nick immediately reined his dark chestnut around and galloped back to the fallen pair. He vaulted out of the saddle, kneeling beside the downed man who was struggling to sit up.

“Easy, Heath,” Nick said, putting an arm around the blond, “I’ve got you. You hurt?”

Heath took an experimental deep breath and started to shake his head ‘no’, when a searing pain shot through his temple. He reached his hand up and it came away wet with blood.

“Here, let me see,” Nick ordered but Heath pushed his hand away.

“Gotta check on Gal,” he mumbled and struggled to his feet, Nick supporting him.

“All right, Heath.” Nick didn’t question Heath’s priorities; after all, responsibility for one’s mount had been ingrained in all the Barkleys from childhood.

Gal was on her side, neck strained as though she was trying to get up, but both men saw her front leg and both men knew what the awkward angle meant.

“Oh, Gal, no,” Heath sobbed harshly, falling to his knees and cradling his beloved horse’s head. “Oh, my sweet Gal.” The mare looked at him with trusting brown eyes and Heath rubbed the tears from his face before giving his Gal one more scratch behind her ears. Then he staggered to his feet and unholstered his pistol. He gripped the gun tightly, his hands shaking as he tried to aim through tear-blurred eyes, blood starting to drip into his vision.

“I can…”

Heath violently pushed away the hand that touched his.

“No! “ he snarled. “She’s my Gal, she’s my responsibility! Sorry, Gal,” he whispered and pulled the trigger. Suddenly, his legs couldn’t support him any more and Heath dropped again to his knees, mourning the loss of his trusted mare who’d been the only friend he could count on the last few years. He sensed more than felt the cloth pressed to his head, the hands grabbing him and hoisting him into the saddle. Heath shuddered as an arm snaked around his waist, holding him firmly and he struggled weakly but soon gave up.

“Hold on, boy,” Nick’s deep voice murmured in his ear. “You need to lie down for a bit before we try and make it home. Just a few minutes and we’ll be at one of those line shacks. I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

Nick letting him fall wasn’t what Heath was worried about, but he was feeling too much shock and too much pain to care any more. He didn’t protest when Nick pulled him off the horse, half-dragging him into the building. He didn’t object when Nick washed the cut on his head and bandaged it carefully. He didn’t struggle or complain when Nick wrapped his arms around his cold trembling body and when Nick started caressing his back, pressing his lips to Heath’s neck, Heath surrendered, losing all will to fight.

*  
Nick helped Heath off Coco and into the building, sitting the younger man down on the bed in the corner. He went outside to the pump and quickly returned with a pan of cold water, using a clean towel to wipe away the dried blood from Heath’s head.

“Let’s get this bandaged up, okay, boy?’ he said to the unresponsive blond. He retrieved a roll of bandage from the medical supplies that were stocked in every line shack and efficiently bound the gash that had finally stopped bleeding. Nick noticed Heath start to tremble uncontrollably and enfolded the other man in his arms, trying to warm him up as well as let him know he wasn’t alone. Along with the expected desire holding the object of his lust engendered, Nick experienced an outpouring of compassion and caring for the aloof young man, Heath’s hurt causing an ache in Nick’s heart as well.

“It’ll be okay,” he said reassuringly, rubbing Heath’s back, trying to bring some sense of comfort. “I know nothing can bring your Gal back, but it’ll be okay.” Nick leaned closer, inhaling the intoxicating scent of horse, sweat and leather. He rubbed Heath’s back gently and lightly kissed the other man’s neck. When Heath didn’t protest, Nick grew bolder, unbuttoning the blue shirt and running his hands across the still-bandaged chest, sliding them down to play with the trail of hair on Heath’s navel. He slowly slipped the shirt off Heath’s shoulders, kissing and nipping at them.

“Let me love you, Heath,” he murmured as his hand moved further down to rest on Heath’s groin, Heath gasping slightly, “let me be here for you.” Nick rubbed at the front of Heath’s pants and was gratified when he felt their contents start to swell. Mindful of Heath’s injuries, Nick slowly lowered the blond down to the bed and unbuttoned the other man’s pants, sliding them off along with the tan boots before quickly divesting himself of his own clothing, pulling up a blanket to cover them as he slipped into the bed to spoon behind Heath.

Nick reached around and grabbed Heath’s half-filled erection, stroking it with a firm hand as he gathered the moisture from the tip of his own dripping cock. He coated his fingers and slipped one into the crease of Heath’s ass, working it through the tight opening. Heath flinched and tensed, but didn’t pull away and Nick pushed slowly, working his finger until he found the hard nub secreted inside. He stroked it in time to the rhythm of his hand on Heath’s penis and was pleased to hear a moan and feel the other’s member grow even harder. Nick added a second finger, moving them apart to stretch Heath’s opening. His own arousal throbbed for attention and soon Nick removed his fingers to grasp himself and guide it the portal he’d been dreaming about, the tip already slippery with its own lubrication.

“I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you,” Nick moaned as he pushed into the blond’s delicious heat. Heath uttered a low noise and Nick worked his hand faster as his partner’s breathing became more ragged. “Oh god, you feel better than I ever imagined.” Nick started thrusting, making sure to hit Heath’s prostate with each push. He gradually increased the tempo of his thrusts and suddenly felt Heath tense, his penis pulsing as a hot stream shot over Nick’s hand.

“Oh, yeah, Heath,” Nick groaned, wrapping his arm tightly around the blond’s hips and pumping into him faster, harder, until Nick’s own release came in an explosion of ecstasy, his seed spurting into Heath’s hot core.

Nick held Heath close as his member softened and slipped out of Heath’s warmth. He kissed the back of his neck and snuggled close, feeling closer to Heath than he’d ever felt to anyone before. “You’re amazing,” he whispered and drifted off to sleep, never once realizing that through the whole encounter, Heath hadn’t said a word.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more dialogue borrowed from "Palms of Glory"

Heath left as soon as he knew Nick was asleep, needing to get out of there. God, what had he just done, what had he just allowed to be done to him? Head throbbing, chest pounding, injured shoulder crying in pain, Heath forced one foot in front of the other, driven by the sole need to escape.

He stumbled, crying out as he gashed his knee on a rock. He struggled to his feet, needing to keep moving. He had to get away from there, had to get away from what just took place. He staggered on, uncaring of the pain wracking his body, fuelled only by the desperation to get away. But his thoughts followed him; no matter how far he got and how fast he pushed his battered body, they were still there, taunting him, leering at him.

He could still feel Nick’s hands on him, stroking and caressing him. He could still feel Nick’s lips brush against his skin, his warm breath on the back on his neck. He could still feel Nick pushing inside of him, filling and stretching him and the unimaginable sensations it brought. Heath stumbled again as he shuddered in revulsion, not just from what had happened, but from his own reactions. The remembered feel of Nick’s caresses only sent shivers of longing through the young man, a longing that both excited and disgusted him. How could he want something like that, something so perverted and amoral? Men like Nick Barkley were just out to slake their carnal lusts; they didn’t care who they got it from or who they hurt. But Heath could still feel the warmth of those touches, the gentle strength in Nick’s hands. It was almost as if the other man truly cared for him, truly cared about Heath’s pleasure and well-being.

Heath shook his head, trying to get rid of the unwanted feelings. No, Nick was the same crude, obnoxious cowboy Heath thought him when they first met. He didn’t care about Heath, no one cared. Gotta get away, he thought, get far away from Nick, go somewhere… He suddenly thought of a green cabin surrounded by a little picket fence.

Home, he thought, home to see his mama. He’d borrow a horse from the Barkleys; he’d return it when he had a chance.

Heath stumbled on, one word giving him strength. Home.

*

Jarrod rode through the gate of his home, dejected and tired. He’d spent just over a week in the state capitol to accomplish nothing. Less than nothing, since he probably would’ve achieved at least something by heading out to Strawberry instead and confirming his suspicions that Heath Thomson was his father’s son.

“Ah, Señor Jarrod!” A portly Mexican came up to take the reins of his horse.

“¡Hola!, Ciego.” Jarrod tried to keep the weariness he felt out of his voice. “¿Cómo estás?”

“Estoy bien, señor,” Ciego replied affably. “How was Sacramento?”

“Cold and dreary,” Jarrod told him, removing his saddlebags and slinging them over his shoulder.

“Well, if it’s heat you want, we’ve got it here.” The stableman looped the bay’s reins around his arm. “This horse is to be returned to the livery in town, no?”

Jarrod nodded. “Sí.” Then he noticed the unfamiliar wagons pulled up near the house. “Ciego, what’s all this about, these wagons?”

“Señor Sample and Señor Swenson, they hear you are coming home today and are wanting to talk to you. I sent them to wait in the house.”

Jarrod sighed and clapped Ciego on the shoulder. “Thanks, Ciego.”

He walked into the house and set the saddlebags on the floor before taking off his hat, which was immediately taken out of his hand.

“Hello, Silas,” he greeted the long-time friend and retainer.

“Mr. Jarrod, how have you been?” The warm smile on the older black man’s face gave Jarrod’s spirits a much-needed lift.

“Fine. I swear you’re getting younger every day,” he said, returning the smile.

Silas smiled wider then cautioned, “Shhh, your mama, she’s sleeping.”

“Oh.” Jarrod glanced up to the top of the staircase to make sure she hadn’t been disturbed and then turned back as Silas said, “You’re looking fine, Mr. Jarrod, just fine. Your guests, they’re in the library.”

Jarrod nodded and, bracing himself, headed through the double oak doors.

“Sig, how are you?” he greeted the grey haired man, shaking his hand before turning to shake the hand of the other man. “Frank.”

“Ain’t you something to see?” Swenson said eagerly.

“Say, you really gave it to them up there, didn’t you?” Sample added, almost as enthusiastically.

“Sure he did,” Swenson asserted firmly, “I told you that.” He turned back to Jarrod. “Well, Jarrod, did you make those high and mightys eat crow?” His face fell as Jarrod didn’t meet his eyes, just walked slowly across the room to stand in front of the fireplace. “You saw the governor…”

Sample took a few steps forward. “You said you were going to meet with him.”

Jarrod looked down, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I saw the governor,” he told them regretfully.

“Oh my god, no.” It was almost as if Swenson deflated as the light went out of his eyes.

Jarrod looked from one defeated face to the other. “He wouldn’t do anything. I’m sorry.”

“Well, it ain’t legal!” Frank Sample protested, “It can’t be!”

“Not by any moral standard, I know,” Jarrod concurred, “but as things stand, it’s legal.”

“But twenty-five dollars an acre!” objected Sig Swenson. “How am I ever going to raise that much money? And in three days!”

Sample’s eyes grew cold. “How many men do you have under hire, Jarrod?”

Jarrod regarded him skeptically. “Why?”

“Thirty-five, forty?” Sample demanded, turning to his neighbour. “We could match that, Sig, you know we can.”

“For what, Frank?” Jarrod’s expression turned hard, afraid he knew what the farmer was suggesting.

“Fight them, Jarrod!” Swenson agreed fervently. “He’s right. Just like we did before, with your daddy!”

“And who do you think you’d be fighting, Sig?” Jarrod asked acerbically. He’d just come from town and knew the streets were crawling with hired guns; the word on the street said the men had been hired by the railroad for just the reason the other men were proposing. “A half-dozen mud hogs off a flatcar?” He shook his head. “No. Go into town and take a look; it’s crawling with them. They’ve hired themselves an army,” Jarrod concluded reluctantly.

“Are you asking us to give into it, Jarrod?” Sample asked, the fire dying in his eyes. “Is that what you’re asking? Give up all we own? My house, my field? My oldest boy’s buried by that house,” he said, almost desperate. “I give that up?”

“Frank, I think you know me better than that. I’ve already filed an injunction. We’ve still got three days to hear back from the Supreme Court before we have to make any other decisions. We’ll meet again then.” Jarrod walked over to the table when a few crystal decanters sat. “Now how about a drink before you go?”

“Drink?” Swenson repeated, shaking his head, walking past. “No, I’ve gotta wet a field down.”

Jarrod put a reassuring hand on Sample’s shoulder as he walked them out. “I’ll let you know,” he promised, “Thursday morning at the latest.”

“Sure, Jarrod.”

Jarrod returned slowly to the library and poured himself a glass of scotch.

His father might have been right in fighting for the rights of the people of this valley and it still might come to that again, but what sort of resolution had that brought? Here they were, only three years later, going through the exact same thing. They needed a lasting solution, one that would bring a stable peace. He didn’t really think an answer was going to come soon enough from his appeal to the courts, but dammit, the law had to be good for something or everything he’d done was a lie and everything his father said was right. Jarrod tossed back the scotch, feeling it burn on the way down and poured himself another.

Jarrod wandered to the French doors, looking out to across the ranch. He wasn’t against progress, but there had to be a way for people’s rights not to get trampled at the same time. His eyes caught movement out by the edge of the barn and he looked more carefully, wondering what it was. The figure stumbled, catching himself at the last minute before he fell into the dirt.

“Heath,” Jarrod breathed, setting down his glass and running outside. “Heath, what happened?” he asked, grabbing the young man under the shoulders and helping him stand upright.

The blond feebly tried to push him away. “Leave me alone, Jarrod,” he mumbled, “just gotta get outta here.”

“Where, Heath?” Jarrod demanded. “Why?”

“Gotta get away from here,” Heath repeated. “Going home, need to see Mama.”

Jarrod’s eyes took in the torn pants, the blood-spattered shirt and the deep shadows lining Heath’s face. “Heath, you’re in no shape to ride all the way to Strawberry. I’ll hitch up a wagon, take you there myself…” he started, knowing he had his own reasons to go to the old mining camp up the Stanislaus.

“No!” Heath snarled and Jarrod felt himself flying backwards from the unexpected right cross, blackness enveloping him as he hit the ground.

*

“Jarrod? Hey, Jarrod!”

Jarrod blinked, brushing away the hand that was patting his cheek. “I’m all right, Nick. Help me up, would you?”

Nick extended a hand and Jarrod grasped it, pulling himself to his feet.

“So who’s mad at you today, counsellor?” Nick teased.

Jarrod rubbed his tender jaw. “Heath,” he said slowly.

“Heath?’ Nick asked, looking around in concern. “Where is he? Have you seen him?”

“No, Nick,” Jarrod answered sarcastically. “He knocked me cold when I wasn’t looking. Of course I’ve seen him.”

Nick grasped Jarrod’s arm. “Well, when? Where’d he go?”

Jarrod shrugged out of Nick’s grip, pushing his brother away. “He said he was going to Strawberry, but I doubt if he’ll make it in the shape he was in. Damn stubborn fool.”

“Strawberry?” If Jarrod didn’t know better, he’d have sworn Nick looked almost, well, heartbroken. “Why’d he slip out like that? Why’d he take off without saying a word?”

Suddenly, Jarrod had a sinking feeling and he knew why Heath left. He grabbed the front of Nick’s shirt, jerking him closer until they were almost nose-to-nose. “Couldn’t leave him alone, could you, Nick?” he snarled. “Once you saw him, you just had to have him any way you could, didn’t you? Big, bad Nick Barkley, doesn’t take no for an answer!” Jarrod shook Nick roughly. “What did you do to him, Nick?”

“It wasn’t like that, Jarrod!” Nick protested hotly. “He was hurting, needed someone to comfort him and that’s all I did. Why the hell does it matter to you, anyway?”

Jarrod gave Nick a hard shove, knocking him onto his ass in the dirt. “Because that boy who came limping in here looking like he’d just walked through hell and back, that boy you just couldn’t keep your hands off of, is most likely our brother!”

Nick sat there, blinking uncomprehendingly. “What the devil are you talking about, Jarrod? That boy’s no more our brother than I’m a... a… trained bear!”

“Have you looked at him, Nick?” Jarrod growled, advancing menacingly. “I mean, really looked at him, as a person, not just a nice ass in a pair of tight pants? Haven’t you noticed something familiar about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on? Or have you just been doing all your thinking with your cock instead of your brain!”

“Now that’s just uncalled for, Pappy!” Nick bellowed, picking himself out of the dirt. “What do you think I am?” He shoved Jarrod back. “And you still haven’t told me why you think Heath is our brother! That’s just absurd!”

The two men stood, chests almost touching, blue and hazel eyes snapping furiously.

“Go into the library, Nick,” Jarrod said more calmly, getting a firm rein on his temper. “Take a close look at the picture of Mother and Father on the desk and then tell me you don’t think Heath Thomson could be our brother. You know as well as I do Father wasn’t the most faithful of husbands, I’m sure he took you to a few of his favorite sporting houses when you were on cattle buying trips together.” Jarrod could see that Nick was calming down and starting to consider his words carefully. “You were only four when he came back from Strawberry after being gone all that time. You probably didn’t see it or don’t remember, but I saw the tension between our parents when he returned.”

Nick sagged back against the side of the barn. “God, Jarrod, what have I done?” he asked in an anguished whisper. “I swear, I didn’t force him to do anything. That black Modoc of his, the one he’s always fussing over, well, we were out for a ride and she took a fall and broke her leg.” Nick looked up at Jarrod, eyes full of remorse. “He put her down himself, Pappy, pulled the trigger and then he just collapsed. I got him to one of the line shacks and he just sat there, shivering, and I just wanted to comfort him, help him, y’know?”

Jarrod reached out and put a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder, knowing full well the big heart Nick’s brash demeanour concealed.

“I was just holding him, and one thing just led to another and…” Nick’s words choked off in a sob. “I think I’m in love with him, Jarrod, and now you say he might be our brother?”

Jarrod pulled his younger brother into a warm embrace. “Why don’t we grab our gear and head after him?” the elder brother suggested softly. “We can make sure he stays in one piece and maybe find some of the answers to our questions when we reach Strawberry.”

Nick nodded, dragging a hand across his face to rid it of any lingering tears. “Okay, Jarrod.”

Jarrod kept his arm around Nick’s shoulders as they walked to the house.

“Oh, by the way,” Nick asked suddenly, “how’d things go in Sacramento?”

“Not well, Nick,” Jarrod admitted. “I should probably stay back and plan for what we’re going to do, but right now, this is more important. And we should be back by the time the deadline hits.” _And yes, Father,_ he told himself, _I am focusing on the business of this family. Something it seems you failed to do._


	11. Chapter 11

Victoria awoke from her nap to hear snatches of a heated argument from outside, and on getting up and looking out the window, saw Nick shove Jarrod in front of the barn. She couldn’t quite make out the words and watched with bated breath, wondering what was going on. Victoria hoped the altercation wasn’t a result of Jarrod’s trip to Sacramento, because that would mean his mission ended in failure. She knew of the many fights Jarrod had with his father over his chosen profession and knew that, even though Jarrod didn’t regret following his own dream, her oldest son had never gotten over feeling like he’d failed the man who sired him. The last thing he needed was for his brother to accuse him of failing as well.

Victoria breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Jarrod put his arms around Nick and turned back to the dressing table to fix her hair after watching the two of them head for the house. She heard their footsteps come up the stairs and froze when she heard their words.

“Have you told Mother?”

“No and I’m not going to until I have proof. I hope what we find out in Strawberry will show if Heath really is Father’s son.”

At that moment, Victoria knew why her thoughts continued to return to young Heath Thomson. She closed her eyes tightly and bit her lip, but not before a strangled sob escaped from her throat. How could she not have seen his resemblance to her husband? All Tom’s infidelities, all his betrayals came crashing down around her and Victoria’s memories transported her back to relive that time over twenty years ago.

She’d had another miscarriage, the second in three years. Tom was frequently absent from home, working out on the range with the herd, on trips to buy and sell their cattle and on expeditions to expand the family’s other business interests. With the house to take care of and two rambunctious boys to look after, Victoria hadn’t been able to rest like the doctor recommended when she found out she was pregnant. The second time, she’d lashed out at Tom, blaming him for losing another child. Tom had been quick to anger as well, telling her if the sacrifices he made for the family weren’t appreciated, then he’d just go elsewhere.

They didn’t hear from him for over a month and when Tom finally returned home, it was with the purchase of a silver mine up the Stanislaus, hat in hand, professing how much he missed them all.

But Victoria knew. She took Tom back; how could she not, with two small boys to consider and loving him the way she did, even though she hated him at the time as well. She knew because of the well-mended shirts, the embroidered handkerchiefs that still smelled faintly of a rose perfume and the slightly absent look he’d get in his eyes whenever business with the mine came up. She finally confronted him about it, almost six months later, and Tom had the decency to confess to loving another woman, swearing he’d given her up when he realized all he’d left behind. Tom sold the mine to prove himself and that sale resulted in an enormous profit and the start of the Barkley wealth.

Victoria turned a blind eye to Tom’s other indiscretions, telling herself that a man had needs a woman couldn’t understand, but deep down, she knew it was just a pathetic attempt to console herself.

Hearing her sons’ hushed whispers as they went back down the stairs, Victoria listened as the front door opened and closed. She picked up the framed picture that resided on the dressing table, staring at the face she loved, hated, respected and reviled.

“Why, Tom?” she whispered, this time not fighting the tears. “Why wasn’t I enough for you? I loved you so much.” Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the picture more tightly and then she turned and hurled it against the wall, the glass shattering into a thousand pieces.

“Damn you, Tom!” she screamed and rested her head on her arms, sobbing.

*

Nick rode his horse slowly beside the wagon his older brother was driving. Even though they couldn’t go as fast, Jarrod reminded Nick that Heath wasn’t in the best of shape and they might need the wagon to bring him home. The big rancher was grateful Jarrod wasn’t trying to draw him into conversation; always astute, Jarrod must have realized Nick need some time to sort out his thoughts.

Nick recalled his encounter with Heath in the line shack. The younger man hadn’t struggled, hadn’t protested and Nick had taken that to mean Heath welcomed his attentions. But when Nick woke up from the sleep that always overtook him after a session of lovemaking, the bed was cold and Heath was gone. That, combined with Jarrod’s description of Heath’s appearance when he’d returned to the ranch, made Nick rethink his earlier assumption.

What if Heath hadn’t wanted it? What if he hadn’t fought Nick off because he was in too much shock from his beloved mare’s death? What if he’d been too dazed with pain from the head wound and his earlier injuries to fully comprehend what was happening until it was too late? Nick shuddered, bile rising in his throat. If that was the case, what did that make him? He might go out of his way to seduce the object of his desires, but he’d never forced himself on anyone who didn’t want his attentions.

Then there was Jarrod’s suspicion. Nick’s belly clenched at the thought Heath Thomson might be their father’s son. It was a sin enough to love another man, but when that man was a brother… Nick couldn’t bring himself to even think on it.

Even worse was the idea that his father had been unfaithful to his mother. Oh, Jarrod was right, he’d accompanied Tom Barkley to a fair share of whorehouses on their trips, but hiring the services of a fallen dove wasn’t quite the same as loving another woman and siring a son on her. There was no doubt in Nick’s mind that Heath’s mother had never been a whore; it just didn’t fit with the blond’s personality to have been raised in an environment like that. Nick had always looked up to his father; ‘placed him on a pedestal’ was how Jarrod had once put it. To find that Tom wasn’t the paragon he’d always thought him…

Nick sighed, looking over at his brother who was steadily watching the road in front of them. He wondered what Jarrod was thinking about all this. With all their differences and arguments, Nick knew Jarrod still keenly felt the disappointment of their father regarding his path in life, even if Tom wasn’t quite as high on a pedestal to his eldest son. He also wondered how Jarrod felt about him, especially after his admission of what happened in the line shack. Jarrod had never questioned Nick’s proclivities and appeared to accept his younger brother’s deviant choices, but they’d never really discussed it, either. Nick wasn’t sure he really wanted to find out what his eldest brother thought.

Nick was pulled from his musings when Jarrod brought the wagon to an abrupt halt. He was surprised to see that the sun was already going down, bathing the sky in a riot of orange and red.

“Reckon we can still make another couple miles before the light’s gone,” Nick observed.

Jarrod shook his head, indicating the trail ahead of them. “Look.”

Only then did Nick notice the unfamiliar horse grazing by the side of the road.

“That’s the horse I borrowed from the livery back in Stockton,” Jarrod continued. “The one we figured Heath took. The shape he was in, I’m surprised he made it this far.” Jarrod set the brake and hopped down from the wagon. Nick tethered Coco after dismounting and the two men made their cautious way toward the horse, not wanting to spook the animal. Carefully, Nick picked up the reins and tied the bay gelding to a nearby tree.

“Nick, he’s over here.”

Nick came over to where Jarrod was crouched by an unmoving form that Nick knew all too heartbreakingly well. “You think he’s hurt, Jarrod?”

Jarrod shook his head, but shrugged as well. “I don’t think so. At least, no more than he was before. I don’t see any blood or any obvious injuries. He’s probably more cold and exhausted than anything. Let’s get a fire going and get him warm.”

“I’ll gather some wood,” Nick offered, not wanting to confront the feelings seeing that pale face elicited, hoping the task of starting a fire would distract him.

When he got back with a large armful of deadfall, Jarrod already had a tidy blaze going with what he had been able to find close by. Nick built up the fire and laid the rest of the wood nearby. He looked at the unconscious form Jarrod had bundled up in the extra blankets they brought with them and fought down the urge to go to Heath, cradle him in his arms and tell him everything would be okay. Instead, he grabbed the coffeepot sitting by the fire. “I’ll get some water and start the coffee. Think we’ll probably be needing it.”

Jarrod looked up at his brother, catching his hazel eyes. “He’ll be okay, Nick,” Jarrod said quietly.

Nick gave a curt nod, not trusting his voice. Jarrod got up from where he was kneeling beside Heath and walked to Nick, grabbing him by the upper arm in a gesture of reassurance. “We’ll talk to him when he wakes up, Nick, and set everything right. I know we can’t change anything that’s happened, but maybe we can all make a fresh start.”

“But what if he hates me, Pappy?” Nick managed to choke out. “I mean, I thought he was okay with what we were… what I was doing. What if he wasn’t? What if…” Nick couldn’t go on. Jarrod pulled him into a tight embrace.

“I don’t know, Nick,” the older brother admitted. “All you can do is try to make him understand. And I’ll be right beside you.”

Nick wiped at his cheeks, trying to get rid on any embarrassing wetness that might have collected. “Thanks, Pappy.”

Jarrod gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder. “That’s what brothers are for, Nick. Now how about that coffee?”

Nick offered to stay up and sit with Heath for the first part of the night. He sat quietly, staring into the flames, trying to ignore the conflict in his heart. Lover or brother, friend or hired hand, one night stand or something more, he couldn’t sort out what he wanted to be to Heath and dreaded what Heath might feel about him. Reckoning it was well past midnight, Nick finally decided it was time to try and get some sleep himself.

“No, leave me alone,” came the tortured cry from where Heath lay. “Don’t touch me, don’t… please… don’t…” The blond thrashed in the blankets and Nick saw he was dangerously close to the fire. He grabbed Heath and tried to hold him still, the younger man still struggling. “No, Uncle Matt, I’ll be good, I promise, just don’t touch me like that…”

Nick’s stomach turned as Heath pleaded for relief from his tormentor. If he was reliving a real event, not just a nightmare brought on by Nick’s actions, that meant Heath’s uncle had…

“Heath, wake up.”

Nick looked up to see his older brother kneeling beside them, shaking Heath by the shoulders. “Come on, Heath, you’re all right, you’re not there any more. It’s just a nightmare, Heath, wake up.”

Heath sat up abruptly and Nick and Jarrod moved back quickly to give him space. He sat there, breath coming in heaving gasps as his head hung to his chest. Nick grabbed a cup and moved to the pot on the fire, pouring some coffee and handing it to Heath. Heath looked at Nick, suspicion, fear and a hint of something else in his light blue eyes. Finally, hands shaking, he took the proffered beverage and the shaking gradually lessened after a few sips.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Heath eyed the two men warily. “What are you doing here?”

Jarrod shrugged, but his eyes twinkled in spite of the gravity of the situation. “I needed a break and heard Strawberry was a nice place to go this time of year.”

Heath gave him a doubtful look. “Got the feeling you were a smart man, Jarrod. Don’t go blowing my image of you.”

“We were worried about you, boy.”

Heath turned at that quiet statement from Nick. “Can take care of myself,” he mumbled, keeping his hands wrapped around the coffee cup.

The three men were silent until Jarrod spoke up.

“Where were you held, Heath? During the war?”

Heath turned suspicious eyes on Jarrod but held silent. Nick looked on in astonishment, not sure he could believe what he was hearing.

“I saw your back, Heath,” Jarrod admitted. “After you saved Audra and I helped the doctor bind your ribs, I saw the scars and I know what they mean. I was there when the prisoners were released from Libby and I knew a few men who survived Andersonville.”

There was a long silence.

“Carterson.”

Both brothers blanched at the quiet admission. If anything, Carterson was even worse than Andersonville. Even fewer prisoners had made it out of the New Mexico prison camp alive at the end of the war, even though it had only been Henry Wirz of Andersonville who was hanged, with Carterson’s Matt Bentell inexplicably escaping the noose.

“Heath, you weren’t old enough to fight in the war,” Nick insisted. “Why, you would’ve only been what, sixteen, seventeen, when it was over?”

“Fifteen.” Heath’s voice was subdued. “Joined up as a drummer when it started, Mama and I needed the money and it got me away from…” Heath shuddered and shook his head, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. “Guess it didn’t end up no better.”

Heath’s pleas during his nightmare came back to Nick and he suddenly knew why an eleven-year-old Heath chose war over staying at home. “You left because of your uncle, didn’t you?”

Violently, Heath surged to his feet. “What gives you the right to be asking all these questions?! Why do you want to know what happened to a poor bastard kid in a rotten rathole of a mining camp?! Why the hell should you care what happened to me?! Especially considering what you did!” Heath stalked across the campsite to hit his fist against a nearby tree before resting his forehead against it, shoulders heaving as tried to breathe.

Nick glanced over at Jarrod with guilt-filled eyes. Jarrod just gave him a reassuring smile and a tilt of his head that said to go over and try to make things right.

Nick placed a hesitant hand on Heath’s shoulder that was abruptly shrugged away. “Heath, if you didn’t want me to… do what I did, why didn’t you say something? Ask me to stop?”

“Didn’t think it would matter none,” came the barely audible reply.

“You didn’t think it would matter none?!” Heath flinched at Nick’s belligerent tone and Nick felt as if his heart would break. “Didn’t think it would…” Nick’s words choked in his throat. “God, Heath, you thought I’d just… Heath, I have never… would never… I mean…” Nick turned away, unable to continue.

Jarrod gripped Nick’s shoulder in support before walking up to stand by Heath. “It’s true, Heath. Nick may be loud, obnoxious, self-centred and overbearing, but I’ve known him all his life and he’d never hurt anyone or anything unless it’s to protect something he loves.”

Nick held his breath when Heath glanced sideways at Jarrod as the lawyer continued.

“Heath, I trust him with my life. I have trusted him with my life on more than one occasion.” Jarrod leaned against the tree as Heath straightened up. “I know you and I don’t know each other well, but I already consider you my friend. And I’ll have you know I never lie to someone I call friend.”

“But what he did… what we did, it’s a mortal sin, Jarrod.”

Nick closed his eyes tightly as Heath’s words cut him to the core.

“You just don’t do those sorts of things with another man,” Heath continued in an anguished tone. “And to get pleasure from it…” Heath shook his head, voice barely a whisper. “Reckon that makes me as bad as my uncle or any of those guards at Carterson.”

Jarrod reached out to lay a gentle hand on Heath’s back. When the blond didn’t pull away, Jarrod moved a little closer. “No, it doesn’t, Heath,” he said in a soft voice. “If a relationship is based on mutual love and support, how can it be wrong? If the intentions are good and no one is hurt, where’s the harm?” Jarrod looked up at Nick, encouraging him and Nick came nearer.

“I swear, Heath,” he said, tone heavy with regret, “I didn’t think you wouldn’t want me to. Hell, I guess I just didn’t think. I only wanted to be there for you, to try and make things better, to show you how much I cared. I was wrong; I shouldn’t have touched you like that without coming right out and asking. The thought that I might have taken you against your will… God, Heath, it just makes me sick inside.” Nick could barely force himself to meet the other’s eyes, but instead of the hate and disgust he expected to find, there was only confusion and uncertainty.

“You didn’t force me, Nick, I reckon I just gave in,” Heath admitted quietly.

“But that’s almost the same…”

Heath shook his head, cutting Nick off. “I could’ve fought you off if I wanted to.” He shuddered and swallowed uncomfortably. “I need to get some sleep,” he stated abruptly and walked over to grab his blankets, settling down on the far edge of the fire, effectively shutting off any further conversation.

Nick sank heavily to the ground, drawing his knees tight to his chest as he leaned back against the tree. Jarrod went to the fire and poured two cups of coffee, then stopped at the wagon to pull a bottle out from his gear and added a generous amount of the amber liquid to each cup.

“Here, Nick,” he said, thrusting the cup into his brother’s hands as he sat beside him. “I think you could use this.”

“Thanks, Pappy.” Nick took a large swallow, then just stared at the cup’s contents. “Jarrod,” he said finally, “what you said back there, about intentions, you really believe that?”

“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t, Nick.” Jarrod took a sip of his own whiskey-laced brew.

“You don’t, uh, have any urges that way, do you?’

Jarrod chuckled. “Nope, not a bit. I tend to prefer my bed partners a little softer and curvier.”

“Never knew if you accepted what I was doing or if you were just real good at keeping your disgust to yourself,” Nick said quietly. “Reckoned if I didn’t ask, I could just pretend it was the first.”

Jarrod was silent for a moment. “I saw you, you know. Back before I left for college. It was that wrangler we’d hired from Kentucky. His name was Brent or something like that.”

“Brett,” Nick corrected, remembering the tall dark man Jarrod referred to. Nick already knew he liked men and wasn’t a virgin, but Brett had done things and taught him things in his few months at the ranch that Nick had never dreamed two men could do with one another.

“I’d woken early and went out to the barn to check on Pepper to see if she was ready to foal yet. You had him up against one of the feed boxes…” Jarrod took another drink. “It made me physically ill, Nick,” he admitted. “I ran outside as fast as I could and was sick behind the bunkhouse. Remember that little Chinese man who was the cook back then?”

At Nick’s nod, Jarrod continued. “Well, Chow Lin found me, took me inside and got me to tell him what happened.” Jarrod grinned. “I always try to emulate him when I’m trying to pry information out of a hostile witness. Anyway, he told me that in his culture, a relationship that encouraged the happiness and well-being of both partners, men or women, was accepted, as long as you did your duty by continuing the family line as well. He made me think about how I could condemn something that only brought joy to those involved; made me feel guilty for those times I’d visited one of the girls at the saloon and was only concerned about my pleasure, not hers.”

Nick saw the sincerity in Jarrod’s blue eyes as he finished. “I know what kind of man you are, Nick. I’m proud to have you by my side and even prouder to call you my brother. And I know Heath will be too, once he gets to know you.”

Nick’s heart felt lighter than it had for a long time, knowing the big brother he respected and looked up to respected him as well. He glanced over to the still form on the other side of the fire. “What about him, Jarrod?” he asked. “What if we find out he really is our brother?”

“We’ll just have to take that as it comes,” Jarrod stated firmly. “I don’t think we should say anything to him, though, not until we have proof.” He tossed the contents of his cup into the fire. “And at that, I’m going back to bed. If something happens, I don’t think we have to worry that we’ll sleep through it.”

As Nick crawled into his blankets, he thought about what would happen if they did find the proof they were seeking. Yes, he’d gain another brother, but he wondered where that would leave the other feelings he had for Heath, feelings that he just couldn’t seem to shake.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more borrowed from “Palms of Glory” and “Boots With My Father’s Name”

Heath protested at Jarrod’s insistence that he ride in the wagon, but if he had to be truthful, he was a bit relieved to be sitting on the hard bench rather than trying to ride. His shoulder wasn’t quite up to holding the reins any longer and the exhaustion of the previous day was still taking its toll.

He cursed himself for his weakness in revealing parts of his past, things he never wanted others to know. He’d done his best to try and erase those events from his mind, but the demons were always there, lurking just beneath his consciousness, ready to leap out at the merest opportunity.

There’d been ample opportunity of late; his injury, the death of his beloved Gal, followed by what happened with Nick in the line shack. Heath took a deep breath, trying to relieve some of the tension building in his gut. As they drove along in silence, bits of the conversation from last night continued to come back to him.

 _I was wrong; I shouldn’t have touched you like that without coming right out and asking_

 _I trust him with my life_

 _I only wanted to be there for you, to try and make things better, to show you how much I cared_

 _Nick may be loud, obnoxious, self-centred and overbearing but I’ve known him all his life and he’d never hurt anyone or anything unless it’s to protect something he loves_

 _Heath, if you didn’t want me to… do what I did, why didn’t you say something? Ask me to stop?_

It was the last that gave him the most pause. Why hadn’t he said something? He could’ve told Nick to stop. He could’ve tried to fight, to run, but he’d just lain there, letting Nick touch him, letting himself respond to those touches. They were the same acts, but still so different from the pawings of his uncle and the brutality of the guards in Carterson.

What was it Jarrod had said? _If a relationship is based on mutual love and support, how can it be wrong. If the intentions are good and no one is hurt, where’s the harm._ Heath thought about that. The only relationship he’d ever had that even came close was that with his mama. Even then, although there was the mutual love and support, there was an undercurrent of bitterness as well. Heath remembered how many times he’d asked; no, demanded; that his mama tell him who his father was. He’d even accused her of not knowing more than once, much to his later regret. He knew Leah Thomson was a good woman and knew she likely had the best of intentions in keeping his father’s identity secret, but those intentions had caused a world of hurt.

Heath glanced over at the man driving the wagon, not sure how to ask if Jarrod really believed what he had said and realized his companion was speaking.

“I had a friend who was in Andersonville,” Jarrod was saying. “We met when I went to college. Actually, Dave and I stayed at the same lodgings that first year until the war started.”

Heath didn’t say anything, but Jarrod didn’t seem to expect any replies.

“We were so fired up back then,” Jarrod continued, an almost wistful look on his face. “We both signed up with the first wave of volunteers. Fighting for the stability of the Union and against the oppression of slavery, it seemed the right thing to do. Looking back, if we knew then what was going to happen… well, I still would have enlisted, but not with the same eagerness I had back then. I ended up in the New York 9th Cavalry and Dave was assigned to Hooker’s regiment. I didn’t see him again until the end of the war.”

Jarrod stopped talking. Heath glanced over and noted the faintly haunted look in the other man’s eyes. He looked up the road to the back of Nick on his dark chestnut ahead of them and then refocused his attention when Jarrod started speaking again.

“I’d been transferred to Washington near the end of the war, serving in the war department, when I came across a list of wounded from somewhere south of Charleston. Nick’s name was on it. Can you believe no one had thought to tell me that my younger brother ran away from home and enlisted?” Jarrod shook his head and Heath could see the disquiet on his face. “Our father blamed me, said if I’d still been at home, I wouldn’t have signed up and Nick wouldn’t have felt he had to follow. He didn’t understand I would have joined anyway.”

Heath thought about his reasons for leaving home and joining the army. Not for any lofty ideals like Jarrod, and not to follow his big brother like Nick. Heath closed his eyes. If he’d had a big brother like Jarrod, or even Nick, he probably would have followed him, too. But instead, Heath left home to get away, away from the groping hands of his uncle and the squalor that had become the town of Strawberry after the mine played out. His only noble thought was of the money he’d be able to send to his mama, that maybe she’d have enough to leave too, but she never did.

“I begged, borrowed and stole any way I could to get down to that hospital. I would have deserted if they hadn’t given me leave. When I found Nick, I thanked God the bullet wound hadn’t required his leg be cut off. That was when I saw Dave.” Heath heard the breath catch in Jarrod’s throat. “He was practically a skeleton. I was surprised he was even able to walk, let alone escape Andersonville and make it all those miles north. And when I saw his back…” Jarrod shuddered and finally looked over at Heath, empathy and regret in his blue eyes. “I won’t pretend to understand what happened to you, Heath. I don’t think any man who didn’t live through it could even come close to comprehending. But you have to know I’d give anything if I could go back and keep it from taking place.”

“You don’t even know me, Jarrod,” Heath said quietly.

“I know enough,” Jarrod replied, returning his gaze to the road ahead, returning to the earlier silence for a few minutes.

“So you’re going to visit your mother in Strawberry?” Jarrod eventually asked. “What’s she like?”

The thought of his mother brought a faint smile to Heath’s face. In spite of their ongoing conflict about the identity of his father, Heath truly loved her and thanked God every day for the sweet woman who was his mama.

“She’s beautiful, warm, and soft, and in a way, very strong. I’ve always thought of her as an angel, ‘specially considering what she had to put up with from me.”

“And your father?”

Heath shot Jarrod a sharp look.

“Never knew him. Mama, she was left to her own when her husband got liquored up and drown in some stinking creek.” Heath’s eyes grew hard. “Until he came. He lay with her, and then he left her, alone and with child. My mama never once told me his name and I ain’t never been sure who she was protecting, him, me or herself.”

“I’m sorry, Heath.” Heath was surprised at the sincerity in Jarrod’s voice. “No reason was good enough for your father to abandon you and your mother like that.”

Nick reined up ahead of them. “Signpost here,” he informed them when they caught up. “Strawberry’s just a couple miles.”

Heath nodded. “There’ll be a fork in the road about half a mile up. We’ll take the left, it’ll bring us to Mama’s without having to go through town.”

Neither of his companions questioned why he didn’t want to go through town. They took the left turn down a narrow track and soon pulled in front of a small green cabin with a picket fence. The paint was faded and traces of white could still be seen on the fence’s weathered slats. There were more signs the place hadn’t been upkept very well in the last little while; a broken board on the step, weeds encroaching on the small garden plot to the side. Beyond the house was the town of Strawberry, the buildings that could be seen having fallen into even greater disrepair than the house. It felt like a ghost town.

Heath ignored Jarrod’s offered hand and slowly climbed down from the wagon. He didn’t like the stillness, the almost oppressive atmosphere that surrounded his childhood home.

“Mama?” he called, walking towards the porch. “Aunt Hannah?”

The front door creaked open and a small, weathered black woman came onto the porch. “Heath,” she said with a bittersweet smile, “My boy, Heath. I knew the Lord would send you before it too late.” She walked up to him, arms extended and Heath embraced her hesitantly.

“What do you mean, Aunt Hannah? Before it’s too late for what?”

Hannah’s eyes grew sad. “Miss Leah, Heath, your mama. She been sick, she dying. But she been holding on to see you before she passes.”

“No.” The strangled whisper escaped Heath’s lips. No, not his mama, the brightest ray of sunshine in his life. He pushed pashed Hannah, into the cabin, going straight through the front room, past the old sofa with the bad springs, past the rickety wooden table that he’d built out of scrap lumber before he left for the war. He pushed open the door to the bedroom and tears welled up in his eyes as he saw the ashen figure lying on the bed. Never a large woman, Leah Thomson looked even smaller against the pillow, almost transparent as though she wasn’t completely of this world anymore.

“Mama,” he whispered, kneeling at her bedside and taking the small, frail hand in his own.

Her eyes blinked open, their soft grey dull and lacklustre.

“Heath?” Her voice was barely audible, but Heath could still hear the beautiful tone that had soothed away many a nightmare in the past. “Heath, sweetheart, you’re here.”

“I’m here, Mama,” he said softly, struggling to keep the anguish from his voice.

“Oh, I love you, my sweet boy.”

“I love you, too, Mama.” Heath almost choked on the words.

Leah struggled to sit up and Heath helped her, tenderly placing the worn pillow at her back. “Heath, there’s something… I need to tell you,” she said, her voice soft and halting. “Something… I can’t take to my grave.”

Heath blinked back the tears. “Don’t talk like that, Mama,” he begged.

“It’s my time, son,” she responded weakly. “But get my Bible… in the box…”

Heath gently set her hand on the faded quilt and went to the corner where the box that his mama kept her prized possessions in resided. He pulled out the old leather bound Bible and tried to hand it to her.

“Turn to the back… to the last page…”

Heath did as she requested and a piece of paper fluttered out.

“Your father, Heath,” came the whisper from the bed, “Tom…”

Heath bent down and picked up the paper. It was a newspaper clipping, dated three years before. The headline read, “TOM BARKLEY SHOT TO DEATH,” and under that, in smaller letters, “WHOLE VALLEY MOURNS”.

Heath turned to his mother and the questions died on his lips when he saw the light had gone out of her eyes.

“Mama?” he whispered, dropping the clipping. He sat on the edge of the bed and cradled her frail body in his arms. “Oh, Mama, no, you can’t leave me. I love you, Mama, I love you.”

Heath broke down, weeping unashamedly against the lifeless body of his mother as he rocked her gently in his arms.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> borrowing more episode dialogue, this time from "Boots With My Father's Name"

Nick and Jarrod watched Heath rush into the house, shocked and saddened at Hannah’s revelation. Nick remembered back to the sheriff coming to tell him his father had been shot and killed and was glad Heath was at least going to have the chance to say goodbye, a chance he never had.

“And who you be?”

Nick turned to the diminutive woman who confronted them.

“I’m Jarrod Barkley, ma’am,” the elder brother said with his usual grace and charm. “This is my brother Nick. We’re friends of Heath’s.”

The black woman eyed them suspiciously. “Barkley? From Stockton? Tom Barkley’s get?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You know about him then?”

“Know what, ma’am?” Nick asked hesitantly, not sure if he was ready to know the truth.

“About Heath. About Miss Leah and your daddy.”

“What about them, Hannah?” Jarrod asked, putting on the compassionate face he used when questioning a sympathetic witness.

Hannah’s eyes got a far-off look. “Miss Leah, she was so young, so pretty, she could’ve had almost any man. She picked that one. She found him, in a alley back of one of the saloons. He was beaten near half to death, and robbed. Lucky he wasn’t killed; there were lots of killings those days. She took him home, made him well.”

Hannah turned a harsh expression on the two men. “He give her a child, his child, he go away and leave and he never come back. People say she bad, a woman to have a baby with no father to claim him, people say she bad.” Shaking her head, Hannah’s voice took on a pleading tone. “She a good woman, she love that man. It can’t be bad when a woman love a man like she do, can it?”

“No, Hannah, it can’t,” Jarrod assured her, exchanging a glance with Nick.

“I should get inside now, see if my boy need help.” Hannah picked up her skirts and went back into the house, saying softly, “Miss Leah, she a good woman. A good woman.”

Jarrod hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Well, I guess that answers that.”

“What?” Nick scoffed, not wanting to believe what his heart told him was the truth. “The ravings of an old woman? Jarrod, you’re the high and mighty lawyer. That would never stand up and you know it!”

“Well, why don’t we add in the other evidence, Nick?” Jarrod retorted hotly. “That Mother and Father were having trouble around the time all this happened? That Father owned the mine in Strawberry at that same time? That Heath is the spitting image of our father at his age? Tell me, Nick, what part of all of this doesn’t add up?”

“It’s just---“ Nick shook his head, unable to continue. “I just find it hard to believe that a brother of mine grew up like this, in this god-forsaken place, needing to run off to war when he was only a boy…” Nick hung his head.

“You weren’t much older, Nick,” Jarrod reminded him gently.

“Yeah, but I was following the big brother I idolized,” the dark rancher replied. “Heath, he was just trying to get away.” Nick lifted his hat to run a hand through his hair. “Dammit, Pappy, I always wanted a little brother. And then I go and… God, Jarrod, I’ve made a royal mess of things, haven’t I?”

“No, Nick,” Jarrod told him, “you had no way of knowing Heath was our brother. You reacted to him the way you react to anyone you find attractive. And if you love him like you’ve said you do…” Jarrod gripped Nick’s arm. “It was Father who made the mess of things, not you, Nick. He knew what could happen, that he could have sired a child. If he’d only come back here and checked, you would have had that little brother and so would I. But instead, we’ve just got to play the hand we were dealt.”

Both men turned as the door slammed open.

“You!” Heath snarled, launching himself at Nick. “You knew! You knew and you didn’t say a word, you just---“

Nick tried to ward off Heath’s blows without causing the blond any further injury to his shoulder or ribs.

“You fucking bastard!”

Jarrod grabbed Heath and pulled him off of Nick. “Stop it, Heath!” he yelled. “He had no idea! Not until I told him my suspicions right before we came after you!”

Heath turned an icy glare on Jarrod. “And you didn’t tell him? You’re his brother, you had to know he was after my ass and you didn’t tell him?!” Heath’s fist sent Jarrod backward into the fence and the lawyer barely managed to keep on his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Jarrod said quietly. “You’re right, I should’ve said something.”

“Sorry don’t make it any better,” Heath snapped angrily and spun towards Nick. “Love thy brother, is that it? Well, I hope you’re happy. I hope you’re both happy.”

He stormed off in the opposite direction of town.

Jarrod put a restraining hand on Nick’s arm when the big rancher made to go after him. “Let him go, Nick. Maybe we’ll be able to talk to him once he cools down.”

Nick gazed after the disappearing blond. “Suppose you’re right, Jarrod,” he acquiesced reluctantly. “But I’m not giving him long enough to get very far.”

Both men were still waiting when Hannah came back out of the house, marks of fresh tears on her face.

“Ma’am?” Nick asked carefully. “Is Heath’s mother…?”

Hannah nodded. “Miss Leah, she with the angels now.”

“Is there an undertaker in town?” enquired Jarrod. “We’d like to help with the funeral arrangements if we may.”

“Very kind of you,” Hannah told them with a sad smile. “Very kind. But there be no undertaker, not even a priest no more. We takes care of our own.”

“Do you have a shovel?” Nick asked after a moment of thought. “My brother and I, we could start...” He wasn’t sure how to finish.

Hannah’s face brightened a little. “The shed out back. And I’s sure you find a spot in the churchyard. Miss Leah’d be right proud having Tom’s sons do for her.”

Nick turned to his brother with a tilt of his head. “C’mon, Jarrod, let’s see what we can find.”

They walked through the decaying town toward the overgrown churchyard, the lifeless streets depressing Nick’s spirits even further. A tattered sign proclaiming “Welcome to Strawberry” hung across the main street and the sign over the saloon hung askew, creaking from a single nail.

“Nice place,” he commented sarcastically.

Jarrod pushed his hat back on his forehead as he surveyed their surroundings. “Let’s just get this done, Nick, and get out of here as soon as we can.”

Neither saw the figure watching them from the shadows in front of the hotel. The lanky man stood for a minute before ducking inside.

“Martha, it’s happened. They’re here.”

The hard-faced woman didn’t stop polishing the banister. “Matt, speak plainly. For a moment, I thought you said someone was here. No one’s come by this sorry excuse for a town in months.”

“It’s the Barkleys, I swear, Martha,” Matt insisted and Martha slowly turned. “I saw them plain as day. I recognize the one, Nick, from a picture that was in the paper a few weeks ago. Got himself named president of the Stockton Cattlemen’s Association or some such. The other was probably the lawyer.”

Martha moved to where Matt was standing, pushing his hand off the back of the settee so she could dust it. “You’re seeing things, old man,” she said scornfully.

“No, Martha, it was them. Wonder what they’re doing here.”

Martha straightened up, pushing a lank strand of faded blonde hair off her face. “Maybe they found out somehow. Maybe that tramp of a sister of yours finally decided to come clean, seeing as she’s dying and all.”

“Possible,” Matt muttered, “could be possible.”

“Hey… hey, Matt.” Martha pulled at her husband’s sleeve. “Maybe it was Providence that brought the Barkleys here.”

Matt shook his head. “Now, Martha, I thought we decided to stay out of it.”

“You,” she said derisively, “you decided. Because you’re a man with the spine of a worm, I let you make that decision. But now that they’re here, no matter what the reasons, they’ve come to us.” She fixed Matt with a stern glare. “Huh. I’m not about to let a chance like this slip through my fingers.” She put down her rag and brushed off her dress. “I need to change. I think it’s time we paid a visit to your poor, ailing sister.”

*

Heath scrambled across the rocks, not really seeing where he was going.

 _Mama,_ his heart cried out, _Mama, why’d you have to go and leave me? Why’d you put that on me, that my father was Tom Barkley and then just leave me?_ He stumbled and fell and didn’t bother to get up. Burrowing his head in his hands, Heath thought of the poverty he and his mama endured, the scorn and derision from the townsfolk who called his beloved mama a whore and he cursed the man who’d sired him.

Even though she never mentioned his name, his mother talked a lot about his father and as a small boy, it seemed to Heath his father was the greatest man who ever lived. And he’d heard Tom Barkley called a great man more than once, even in the backwoods of Strawberry. A great man who lived high in that fine mansion, while his bastard son lived in squalor.

“Why’d you keep it from me, Mama?” he moaned. “Were you afraid I’d leave you for my rich daddy? I loved you, Mama, I never would have forsaken you for all the money in the world. You could’ve told me.”

Hugging his knees to his chest, Heath thought about his father’s family. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was hurt that gracious woman who’d cared for him and that sweet little girl.

Then his thoughts turned to his father’s other sons. His brothers. The word echoed bitterly in his mind. He’d always wanted a big brother, someone to look up to, to teach him how to hunt and fish. Someone who would stand up for him against the town bullies who were always looking for someone to pick on so they could make themselves feel more important. He’d fantasized about that older brother and now he had two, just as he’d imagined, in the forms of Jarrod and Nick Barkley. Two more men who’d betrayed him, one with his silence and the other with his actions.

“I can’t do this, Mama,” he whispered. “I can’t go on by myself and I don’t know if I can turn to them. I don’t know if they’ll even want me, their father’s bastard. Oh, Mama, what am I going to do?” But his pleas were left unanswered.


	14. Chapter 14

The California sun beat mercilessly and both men had long since shed their vests and shirts. Reaching down, Nick grabbed Jarrod’s arm, helping him out of the hole. Jarrod leaned on the handle of his shovel and wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, leaving behind a streak of dirt and then gratefully took the canteen handed to him.

“Thanks, Nick.” Jarrod tilted his head for a long drink before ducking and pouring some of the cool water over his head, stray droplets trickling down his sweaty chest as he slicked back his wet hair. He passed the canteen back to Nick, who did the same. “I think we’re done. We should head back to let Hannah know and see if Heath’s returned.”

“Can’t argue with that, big brother,” Nick agreed and the two men gathered up their discarded clothing, leaving the shovels for the sad task of filling the hole back in. Nick took a glance back at the grave, the freshly turned dirt a scar on the unkempt landscape of Strawberry’s churchyard. A chill went up his spine and he hoped Heath would allow them to help him through the pain of his mama’s death. Not that anyone would blame him if he didn’t, Nick thought grimly. We sure haven’t given him much reason to think kindly on us.

As they approached the faded green cabin, they heard a distraught voice. “You can’t do that, you just can’t be doin’ that.” Nick and Jarrod picked up the pace and reached the porch just as Hannah came out the door, wringing her hands in her apron.

“Oh, Mistah Barkley!” the distressed woman cried when she spotted them. “They can’t be doin’ that!”

“Who can’t do what, Hannah?” Jarrod asked in a calm tone.

“That man and his wife. They just can’t be goin’ through Miss Leah’s things like that.”

“Who’s going through her things?” Jarrod persisted.

“Miss Leah’s brother Matt and that woman.” Hannah grabbed onto Jarrod’s arm. “Please make them leave her be!”

A tortured plea came back to Nick as he saw the slight, gray-haired man come out of the cabin.

 _“Don’t touch me, don’t… please… don’t… No, Uncle Matt, I’ll be good, I promise, just don’t touch me like that…”_

The man extended his hand, an ingratiating smile on his face. “You must be the Barkleys. I’m Heath’s uncle, Matt---“ He didn’t get a chance to finish, his words cut off by Nick’s growl as the rancher launched himself at the other man.

“You sorry excuse for a human being!” Nick snarled as his fist collided with Matt Simmons’ face. “You think you can call yourself a man, putting your filthy hands on a little boy like that!?” He struck another solid blow, blood spurting from Simmons’ nose. “You’re not even half a man!” Nick grabbed the gaunt neck and started banging Simmons’ head against the boards of the porch.

“What on earth are you doing!?” a woman’s voice screeched, but Nick paid it no heed, intent on beating the life out of his newly-discovered brother’s tormentor.

“Nick, let go! Stop!” Nick bucked out of Jarrod’s grip, retaining his hold on his prey as Jarrod tried again to pull him off. “Nick!”

Simmons’ face was slowly turning blue, a contrast to the scarlet blood trickling down his face and staining the wood beneath his head as it continued to be rammed against the boards.

“Stop it, Nick.” The soft drawl cut through Nick’s fury and he loosened his grip, looking up into a pair of sky-blue eyes. “He ain’t worth it.”

Still looking at Heath, Nick slowly let go, Simmons’ hands coming up to clutch at his throat as he gasped for air. A woman with straw-like hair knelt down beside him. “Matt, what has he done to you?” She turned hate-filled eyes toward Nick. “You!” she spat. “You tried to kill my husband!”

“Killing’s too good for the likes of him,” Nick growled, trying to rein in his anger, continuing to look toward Heath.

The blond just stood there expressionlessly and his voice was dispassionate as he said, “Reckon you should get out and stay away, Uncle Matt, Aunt Martha. I ain’t my brother’s keeper and can’t tell what he might have a notion to do.”

With Martha’s help, Simmons struggled to a sitting position. “Now listen here, boy, your aunt and I, we took care of you and your mama and we deserve…”

“You’re lucky we don’t let Nick finish giving you what you deserve.” Jarrod’s blue gaze was cold and unyielding. “Now, I suggest you listen to my brother and stay away.”

Martha opened her mouth to protest, but shut it quickly as she took in the implacable expressions of the men surrounding them. She helped her husband to stand and supported him as they slowly left the yard, muttering, “Of all the ungrateful…”

Heath watched them make their way down the street before he finally moved. “Reckon I should go find a spot for Mama,” he stated softly and was stopped by Nick’s hand on his arm.

“Already done that, Heath,” Nick assured the younger man who had become part of his soul. “Jarrod and I found a place under that big old tree in the churchyard. It’s just waiting on you to say if it’s good enough.”

The look on Heath’s face went from surprise, to doubt, then softened into gratitude. “You didn’t have to,” he protested.

“It’s what family does, Heath,” Jarrod told him quietly. “You and your mama deserved so much more from us. I know it’s too little, too late, but we had to do something.”

Nick reached out and squeezed Heath’s shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “Reckon we can find us some wood, make your mama a real fine casket. What do you say?”

Heath’s blue eyes filled with uncertainty, then he reluctantly agreed. “Okay, Nick, if you want.” He looked over to Hannah. “Aunt Hannah…”

Hannah beamed at him. “Don’t you worry none, Heath, I make sure your mama, she all dressed right pretty.” She went back into the house and Nick followed Heath around to the back of the house.

They worked on the coffin in silence. Nick wanted to say something, anything, but Heath surrounded himself with what felt like an impenetrable wall, working with them but not really as a part of them. He started to offer words of reassurance, words of brotherhood more than once, but stopped at the last minute, no sure if he could stand it if his overtures were rejected.

So they continued on, standing back as Heath reverently carried the body of his mother out of the cabin and laid it gently in the wooden casket. Not asking, Nick and Jarrod each took a corner, hoisting the negligible weight of a woman not their mother, but a woman who had given birth to their brother just the same. Heath didn’t protest, he just led the way along with Hannah to the grave his brothers had dug not long before.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nick noticed Matt and Martha Simmons watching from the shadows of the hotel. _They’d better not cross my path again,_ he thought grimly, _or there’ll be hell to pay._ But he reckoned Simmons was too much of a coward to confront them again. He made a mental note to talk to Jarrod and make sure that Hannah wasn’t going to be left alone in this deserted town at the mercy of Heath’s craven relatives.

Before he knew it, they were at the churchyard and he and Jarrod gently set the coffin beside the freshly dug grave.

Heath turned to the elderly black woman beside him. “Aunt Hannah, you know best what she’d like to have said over her. Please?”

Hannah nodded and closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, their soft brown shining clearly as she recited, *“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; you are Mine.  When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you.   For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One, your Saviour…” She closed her eyes again and her hand sought Heath’s, holding it tightly.

Nick saw Jarrod’s head was bowed, his hands clasped tightly together and was reminded of a bright spring day three years before when they consecrated their father’s body to the ground. He reached out and gripped his brother’s arm tightly as Heath started to speak.

**“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.  He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters.  He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.  Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.  You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over.  Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

“Amen,” Nick murmured along with the others. He and Jarrod carefully tied the length of rope they brought with them around the coffin and slowly lowered it into the grave. Nick watched as Heath fell to his knees, his heart breaking.

“I know you’re in a better place, Mama,” Heath whispered, tears rolling unashamedly down his cheeks. “I just wish that better place could still be here with me.” Nick stepped up with Jarrod, flanking him, and Nick hoped that their presence could be some sort of comfort to the distraught blond.

Hannah threw a handful of dirt onto the coffin. ***“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” she said softly and turned away, walking slowly back through town.

Nick and Jarrod stood in vigil beside their grieving brother until he finally stood and picked up one of the shovels, taking some of the dirt and tossing it into the grave. Nick made a move to pick up the other shovel, but stopped when he heard, “No. I gotta do this myself.” Staring into the determined blue eyes, Nick nodded and looked to Jarrod, who nodded as well.

“We’ll be back at the house when you’re done,” and left Heath to what he needed to do.

 

*Isaiah 43:1-3   
**Psalms 23:1-6   
***Book of Common Prayer


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few parts are mostly straight out of the series’ pilot, ‘Palms of Glory’, added to and modified to fit this AU.

At Nick and Jarrod’s insistence, Heath talked to Hannah and convinced her to leave Strawberry. It wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it might be; her reluctance to stay without Leah and with the Simmons’ still in town had likely played a large part in her acquiescence.

Heath himself was of two minds about returning to Stockton. On one hand, Tom Barkley was his father. Heath felt no pride in having the so-called great man as a daddy, but it was a proud name, one he was entitled to and he had the urge to wear it, to make people look up to him as they did to Tom’s legitimate sons.

On the other hand, there was the hurt. The hurt that had been caused by his paternity being kept secret, the hurt that the revelation would bring to the innocent members of the Barkley family, hurt that once caused would not easily go away. Heath wondered if it wouldn’t just be better to walk away, pretend he’d never heard of Stockton or the Barkleys and start fresh somewhere else, somewhere far away.

But every time he tried to think of where he might go, the vision of intense hazel eyes intruded, the feel of firm but gentle hands on his skin, the sound of a deep voice murmuring in his ear. The more he tried to banish those images, the more thoughts of Nick Barkley invaded his mind. _You’re sick, Thomson,_ Heath told himself, distressed. _Not only is he a man, he’s your brother, for chrissake, your father’s son. It don’t matter that you didn’t know, it’s still a fact. The further away you get from him, the better._ But no matter how often he told himself those things, Heath still yearned for Nick to touch him like that again.

He closed his eyes tightly, trying to will the feelings away as he hoisted the carpetbag where he’d packed those things of his mother’s he wanted to keep and resolutely walked out of the bedroom. He was committed to going to Stockton, at least until he saw Hannah settled. After that, well, he decided he’d think about it then.

“Ready to go, Aunt Hannah?” he asked, seeing her close her bag.

“I’s ready, Heath.” Hannah looked wistfully around the place she’d called home for so long.

Heath took Hannah’s hand and held it for a moment, then with a faint grin said, “Reckon we’d better get going. Don’t think Nick’s the type who fancies waiting.”

They walked outside to find the wagon waiting with both horses saddled, Nick already mounted on Coco. Heath helped Hannah onto the seat before hopping up to sit beside her. “If no one minds, I’ll drive.”

“Whatever you say, Heath,” Jarrod agreed, picking up the bay’s reins and swinging into the saddle.

Nick turned the head of his dark chestnut away from the cabin. “If we get moving, we might be able to reach Stockton before sundown. Come on.”

*

“You’re sure there are no messages?”

“No, Mr. Barkley.” The young woman shook her head. “Nothing at all since you came back from Sacramento.”

“Damn.” Jarrod quickly turned a look of apology on his secretary. “I’m sorry, Anna. I shouldn’t be using that kind of language.” He gave her a smile, full of Barkley charm. “It’s late. Why don’t you head home and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Anna retuned the smile and nodded, gathering her belongings. “Thank you, Mr. Barkley. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jarrod opened the door for her and shut it when she left, moving over to sink into the chair behind the desk. “Damn,” he muttered again.

The railroad’s deadline was tomorrow. Jarrod hadn’t really believed a decision on his injunction would be in, but he had still held out a faint hope. Now even that was crushed. He sank his head into his hands, wondering if the only answer was the one Frank Sample proposed, the same answer that had gotten his father killed three years ago.

“Hey, Jarrod, we got Hannah settled in the old Potter house on the edge of town and---“ Nick stopped in mid-sentence when he saw the look on his brother’s face. “Who shot your dog, Pappy?”

Jarrod raised his eyes to see Nick in the doorway, Heath standing in the shadows behind. “No one, Nick. As far as I can tell, they’re still deciding if they should pull the trigger.”

“What’s going on?”

Both men turned to look at Heath. “The Coastal and Western Railroad, headed by Hannibal Jordan, is strong-arming a bunch of the valley’s farmers into having to buy their own land for an outrageous price, or it’s going to just be taken from them,” Jarrod explained. “I was up in the capitol, trying to get our government to put a stop to what’s basically outright theft. Our appeal to the courts hasn’t been addressed yet.”

“And the deadline’s tomorrow,” Nick added, “right, Jarrod?’

Jarrod nodded heavily. “We have to try to stop it from turning into a bloodbath, Nick.”

Nick snorted. “That’s the only kind of argument those railroad goons understand, Jarrod. It’s kill or be killed and quite frankly, I ain’t standing by and letting my friends be the ones getting killed.”

Jarrod sighed and turned his gaze on Heath. “We should head back to the ranch and get a good night’s rest. I’ll talk to the others in the morning.”

Heath didn’t say anything more and Jarrod didn’t really notice, too wrapped up in his own thoughts as they retrieved their horses from the livery and headed out of town.

His father thought the same as Nick, that a physical fight was the only answer and where had that gotten them? Twelve men dead, Tom Barkley included and here they were, back in that same position only a few years later. Jarrod believed in the law, believed that it was up to the government and people who cared to uphold it. But his faith was being sorely tested. His injunction hadn’t been granted in time and it was looking like they’d have to fight or give in. The valley’s farmers were being betrayed again by the people they elected to look out for their interests.

Maybe if he had taken it to the courts the first time around, like his father wanted, instead of focusing on his client at the time… Jarrod shook his head. Second guessing himself wasn’t going to get him anywhere. If he had dropped that case to focus on the railroad issue, an innocent man would have likely hung, leaving his wife and small daughter alone. _And if you had dropped it,_ a little voice nagged, _your father might still be alive._

 _I did what I needed to,_ Jarrod defended himself to the voice, _and I still believe I made the only choice I could._

“Jarrod, look.” Nick’s voice broke into the lawyer’s thoughts. He followed Nick’s gaze to a flicker of orange blossoming against the darkening sky. “That’s Swenson’s place.” The three men urged their horses into a gallop.

Sig Swenson’s farmyard was a scene of chaos. All the buildings were on fire and men hauled buckets of water, trying to make sure the flames didn’t spread. Swenson was standing looking forlornly at the chimney of the house, the only part still standing. When it too crumbled and fell, the despondent man tossed his bucket angrily at the ruins. Jarrod and Nick dismounted, going to their friend and neighbour as Victoria Barkley pulled up in the ranch buggy, looking sadly at what remained of a once prosperous homestead.

”They came,” Swenson said as Nick grabbed his arm and Jarrod came over slowly after staring at the devastation, “just came. With guns and torches, howling out like wolves. And I just stood there, aside, and watched them do it.” He hung his head in despair.

“Well, not my place.” Frank Sample strode up, determination in every step. “And hanged I’ll be after paying for what I own.” He took something out of his pocket and waved it in front of Jarrod. “I have a paper here that says I’ll have to do just that.” He walked over to Nick, then to the sheriff who had helped fight the blaze. “By 8 o’clock in the morning, or have my place took out from under me. Well, I ain’t, you hear?” There was a thick silence, them Sample held the paper aloft. “I ain’t! Who stands with me?”

In the shadows, Heath remained mounted and Victoria looked on.

Sheriff Lyman looked sternly at Nick who had moved to stand beside Sample. “No one stands with you, Frank. I’m sorry, but legally after tomorrow the land’s no longer yours.”

Sample lowered his hand slowly. “Nick,” he said, almost desperately and then walked to Jarrod. “Jarrod. Listen. Three years ago, your daddy and mine fought and died for this, cause your daddy said it was right to fight.”

Heath looked from the scene unfolding before them, over to the widow of his father, his brothers’ mother and had to look away when she returned his glance with a serene one of her own.

“And what did it gain you?” Sheriff Lyman shouted. “Any one of you?” He turned to Sample. “Your father…” and then to Jarrod, “and yours. Ten others, dead. Three years of false hope. I bow to no man in my regard for Tom Barkley, but he was only a man. He couldn’t fight a giant and win! Any more than can you!” He addressed Sample again. “Or you. Or any man.” He looked over the gathered crowd. “So worship him, and pray for him, but follow him… you follow a dead man to his grave.”

Sample looked from Nick to Jarrod. “That true? What he says? Your daddy gave us nothing? No way to fight?” The farmer bowed his head and walked away, defeated. “Never did.”

Everyone’s attention was on Frank Sample, who ripped the ultimatum from the railroad and threw it to the ground in despair. Everyone watched as Nick took a long look around, catching each of them in his piercing gaze, with a longer look at his brother before he walked over and stood beside Sample, arms crossed defiantly. Swenson went to stand on his neighbour’s other side. No one other than Victoria saw as Heath pulled the head of his horse around and left the yard.

Jarrod was torn. He was sworn to uphold the law, to defend it wherever and whatever. But in this case, the law was clearly wrong. He looked up and met the eyes of his mother, eyes that had never held condemnation, only love, support and pride.

Suddenly, he knew. No matter what choices he had made against his father’s wishes, no matter how many arguments they’d had over Jarrod’s path in life, Jarrod understood that at heart he was as much his mother’s son as his father’s, Victoria Barkley being just as ready to fight for what she believed in by whatever means necessary. Jarrod knew that in his world, that fight was usually in a court of law, but this time, Tom Barkley’s way was the only way that justice could truly be served. With complete conviction, Jarrod walked over to stand beside his brother, the rest of the valley farmers who had come to fight the fire moving in behind them.

“Harry, I’ve known you most of my life,” Jarrod said, posture and expression implacable, “and respected you. Enough to be honest.”

“Any man who comes to try to take that farm, he’s going to be killed,” Nick finished for his brother.

The sheriff looked from one unyielding face to another and responded in kind. “I’m sorry to hear that, because I’m going to be with them.”


	16. Chapter 16

Victoria watched with bated breath at the scene unfolding in front of her. It was happening again, but this time it wasn’t her husband, but her sons who were in the line of fire. Her heart trembled in fear as she saw Nick walk to stand defiantly beside Frank Sample, but it was full of pride as well. Tom Barkley may have been a lot of things, but he never backed down from what needed to be done and that spirit and sense of duty had been passed on to his sons.

She noticed movement out of the corner of her eye and turned just in time to see Heath pull his horse’s head around and gallop away. _You did that boy a great injustice, Tom,_ she thought, _he should have grown up with a father, with his brothers._ She didn’t know much about the young man, only what she could discern from his selfless act in saving Audra, the gentle nature she sensed and the reports of his hard work from the foreman and other ranch hands. She wondered about that unknown woman, this time not as the one whom her husband had betrayed her with, but as the mother of a young boy, shaping him into a man by herself and how hard it must have been for her.

Victoria turned her attention back. She saw the indecision on Jarrod’s face and her heart went out to her eldest child. She knew how much he had anguished about his choice three years ago to continue his defence of a young man wrongly accused of rustling and murder instead of taking up the legal aspects of the fight against the railroad. He’d never actually talked to her about it, but she knew that Jarrod carried around a degree of guilt over his father’s death and hoped the decision he made now was one he could live with. She caught his gaze, biting back a tear as she saw his expression change to one of determination as he strode over to stand beside his brother, enormous pride in the sons she’d borne warring with the knowledge that she could be burying one or both of them beside their father tomorrow.

“Take me home, Cody,” she said softly to the ranch hand who had driven her over.

On the drive back, worry for her sons’ safety fought with thoughts of the young man she knew in her soul was her husband’s son. The past three days since she overheard Jarrod and Nick in the hall were a blur; she’d been acting on instinct to take care of Audra and see to the running of the household and ranch with the boys away. Silas must have realized something was wrong; she couldn’t count the number of times he’d come across her in the dining room, furiously polishing an item of silver.

Heath Thomson was Tom Barkley’s son. Her husband had impregnated another woman and as far as she could tell, abandoned that woman with no means of support, no acknowledgement of the son she’d borne him. Victoria knew the scorn and derision which unwed mothers and their offspring were subjected to and she was saddened to think of that soft-spoken young man enduring the taunts and insults she’d heard directed towards fatherless children from time to time.

As much as it would hurt to have a constant reminder of her husband’s betrayals, those three days had brought her to one inescapable conclusion. Heath was no less a Barkley than Jarrod, Nick or Audra, and Victoria believed he had as much right to that heritage as her own children. She could never take the sins of the father out on the son and prayed that when she talked to the rest of her family, they would agree.

Thanking Cody as he handed her out of the carriage, Victoria walked across the porch and slowly opened the front door, still deep in thought. She stopped, staring, as she saw the object of those thoughts standing at the entrance to the parlour, filling his hat with the apples that were always kept on the small table there. He glanced up, seeing her, and turned back to his task without acknowledging her presence. Quickly striding to the door, Heath paused when he reached her and Victoria saw his father in those sky blue eyes.

She spoke up as he brushed past her to leave. “He was an imperfect man, my husband... and in so many ways that could hurt.” Not looking, Victoria sensed that Heath had turned to pay attention to her words. This son of her husband’s had never known his father like her other boys and in spite of his faults, Tom Barkley had helped shape those boys into men she was proud of and she wanted to give Heath a sense of what his father had been.

“But he never destroyed, only built and gave life. For he knew that what he brought was a changing way, a revolution of its own that said, ‘You are a free man. No one, not railroad, nor Jordan, nor Thomas Barkley, can own you.’ And he knew it was something you won only with courage, pride and leadership. That's what he tried to instill in his sons.” She looked up at Heath, wanting desperately to see that courage, pride and leadership in this unacknowledged son of her husband’s. There was a hint in those blue eyes, something lurking behind the impassive expression. “If you hadn't ridden away tonight, you would have seen that he accomplished it. It's not a battle that can be won in a day, a year, or even ten. And then one day he made a terrible, wretched mistake. He died, before anyone really understood.”

Victoria had to pause, pushing down the tears that threatened, thinking of the other mistakes that Tom had made, mistakes that she hoped were now being rectified.

She stared straight into those blue eyes. “And so, if you were my son, I would say to you, ‘Be proud’, because any son of my husband has a right to be proud. Live as he would live, fight as he would fight, and no one… no one can deny you his birthright.” In Heath’s eyes, Victoria saw echoes of Tom, of Jarrod, even of Nick and Audra. She suddenly wanted to reach out to him, to embrace him as a mother would a son and try to erase some of the pain and doubt she sensed. “That's what I would say to you... if you were my son.”

The moment seemed frozen in time as Heath looked at her, and Victoria finally had to look away, listening as he left and shut the door, hearing the hoofbeats as he galloped his horse out the gate. “You may have failed him, Tom,” she whispered, “but I don’t believe he’s going to fail you. None of your sons have ever failed you.”

*

Heath hurriedly stuffed the apples in his saddlebag before donning his hat and mounting. He really didn’t know why he’d come back. To have a look at what could have been, maybe. When he’d turned to leave the house, that basket of shiny apples was too tempting and he thought of how far they’d go to assuage the gnawing hunger he knew would come before he found another job. Then he saw her standing there, and listened to her words and his world was thrown into turmoil again.

The bay Jarrod had arranged for him at the livery was a solid animal, nothing like his Gal, but adequate. He nudged the gelding in the sides, heading out through the gate at a gallop, running from those perceptive grey eyes. He continued running until he was a mile or so from the house and then he pulled the horse up abruptly.

Running.

He’d done that more times than he could count. Running from the bullies who taunted him for not knowing who his father was; running from the groping hands of his uncle; running from the nightmares that plagued him after the war; running from letting anyone get too close in fear of the pain and rejection that usually followed. And now running from the spectre of the man who sired him, the man who inspired such passion in his neighbours and such devotion in his family, not to mention his own feelings for another of that man’s sons.

But where had all that running got him? Leaving school to work in the mine only resulted in a fear of dark, tight spaces. Enlisting in the army saw him with the blood of too many other young men and boys on his hands, ending in the horror that was his imprisonment at Carterson. Avoiding the company of others only left him friendless and bereft, his only true companion for the past few years the faithful black mare who was now gone.

As his horse moved out from under the trees, Heath slipped from the saddle. The vast heavens were ablaze with stars, the sky a glittering canopy overhead. Dropping the reins and turning in a circle, Heath took in the stars, the trees and the vast open plain in front of him. This was his. All this was a part of his birthright as Tom Barkley’s son. He had the chance to run to something for a change, all he had to do was turn back and take it.

 _No one can deny you his birthright._ Victoria Barkley seemed to acknowledge his right to the Barkley name and heritage. He didn’t figure he could take her words literally, _if you were my son,_ but even though he’d never be a part of the family, there was still the hint of a promise of somewhere to belong.

He thought about Jarrod, about the friendship that had been developing with the dark haired lawyer, the friendship that teetered on the brink of ruin because of Jarrod keeping his suspicion that Heath was a brother to himself. But could he really blame the other man? There had been no proof until his mama’s dying confession and a man like Jarrod would need that proof before acting on what was basically a hunch. Heath found he couldn’t fault Jarrod for not saying anything; he likely would have dismissed it as a wild fantasy himself if not for what his mama had said.

He thought of little Audra, the girl he rescued from the stampeding horse, his sister. He’d only met her briefly when she came by his sick room to shyly thank him for saving her life and to apologize that her recklessness had nearly cost him his. He chuckled at the remembered taste of the lemonade she’d brought, trying to keep a smile on his face when he realized she must’ve accidentally used salt instead of sugar. Boy howdy, he’d love to be a big brother to that little girl. He got the sense that the two of them would have a fine time teasing and tormenting their older brothers and part of him longed to have that chance.

The thought of his brothers brought an image to the forefront, an image Heath knew he’d have to confront before he chose to stay. He sighed, knowing those thoughts would likely take a while, and decided to stop for the night. He tethered his horse to a nearby tree, slipped the bit and removed the saddle. He decided against a fire, quickly munching an apple for supper instead and giving the core to the bay.

Unrolling his bedroll, Heath removed his gunbelt and boots and slipped under the blanket, pillowing his head against the saddle as he finally let his thoughts wander down that dark road he knew he couldn’t avoid any longer.

Nick Barkley. Even thinking his name sent shivers down Heath’s spine and his groin tightened involuntarily. All the men who had used and abused his body to slake their own lusts, all the hard-eyed whores who let him use their bodies to quench his own, none of that had prepared Heath for the longing he felt at Nick’s hands. In spite of himself, he’d responded to those hands, to their gentle strength and even thinking about what Nick had done in the line shack made Heath’s manhood start to harden.

But damn it all, Nick was his brother! Didn’t the Bible say it was a sin to lie with one who was close of kin and didn’t it say it was a sin to be with another man? And didn’t that make a relationship with Nick doubly immoral and the raging hard on he was getting just thinking about it completely evil? Heath’s hand unconsciously went to his pants, rubbing against the straining bulge as he remembered something else.

He thought again of Jarrod’s words, _“If a relationship is based on mutual love and support, how can it be wrong? If the intentions are good and no one is hurt, where’s the harm?”_ and thinking of those words made some of his anxiety drain away. Heath gave in to the urges of his body, unbuttoning his pants to let his erection spring free, squeezing it slowly from base to tip.

He remembered more of that same night after he’d crawled into his blankets, snatches of the whispered conversation between men he now knew were his brothers. His breath caught as he realized Jarrod already suspected the relationship when those words were said, and further realized that the educated and principled lawyer hadn’t said a word of condemnation, only support. That revelation sent a rush of blood to his groin and Heath stroked faster, imagining Nick’s hazel eyes as his need built. He closed his eyes, letting himself picture Nick’s hand on his shaft, pumping the swollen organ until Heath felt his balls tighten and his penis pulse, his milky substance spewing forth onto his hand. Heath shuddered as his whole body tensed and convulsed with the strength of his orgasm.

“Niiicckkk,” he groaned, his mind lost in a euphoria that was only rivalled by the climax Nick had brought him to a few days ago. As he relaxed back against the saddle, Heath knew he had to stop running. He didn’t know if Nick was willing to continue that sort of relationship, but Heath knew that even if he didn’t, the potential gain of staying was worth the chance.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s the last of the episode “Palms Of Glory” retold for this AU. The rest is all mine.

Nick sat on Sample’s porch in the bright early morning sunshine. “I tried to run for cover,” he told his rapt audience, gesturing for emphasis, “but these claws were ripping right into my back, and the teeth were hitting my neck. I've been up against some cats before...”

“How’d you get out?” one of the men asked.

“Her husband came home.”

Nick gave his older brother a glare as Jarrod walked up behind him to lean against the post. Most of the men were already there, checking their pistols, loading their rifles, making small talk as they accepted cups of coffee from Mrs. Sample, trying to distract themselves from what was about to come.

Nick crossed his arms. “What time is it?”

Jarrod reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch. He opened it, glancing briefly before returning it to his pocket and squinting off into the distance. “Ten minutes to eight.”

Nick slouched more heavily against the rail and smacked his black-gloved hands together. Ten minutes before Jordan’s deadline. He’d seen the quality of the hired guns the railroad brought in and as much as he knew they had to take a stand, he wasn’t looking forward to this fight. Give him a good brawl any day, fist against fist, muscle against muscle, but anyone could get lucky with a bullet. Or unlucky.

“Jarrod. Nick.” Frank Sample nodded in the direction of town and both men turned their heads towards the sound of approaching riders.

Nick jumped from his perch on the porch rail, moving to stand behind it while Jarrod stepped out in front. Rifles and pistols were readied as almost two dozen men rode into the yard.

“Nettie!” Sample called to his wife and she came slowly out of the house, her eyes never leaving the approaching men. “Where are the kids?”

“In the cellar.”

“Get with them,” Sample told her. Nettie glanced at him before moving to do his bidding.

The men pulled their horses to a halt, milling restlessly in front of the house. Sheriff Lyman dismounted and approached.

“That’s far enough, Harry,” Sample told him, the determined farmer slowly walking towards Stockton’s sheriff. The air was silent, only the snort of a horse breaking the stillness.

The sheriff slowly pulled a piece of paper from his pocked and unfolded it. He started to read. “ ‘At 8:00 a.m., by order of the governor of the state of California’...”

“We know what it says, Harry,” Jarrod broke in, his posture deceptively casual.

Harry continued reading. “ ‘And the power vested in me as sheriff of this county’...”

“We know what it says,” Nick repeated belligerently.

Harry folded the paper, regret in his eyes and turned at the sound of more hoofbeats. Everyone else turned with him and Jarrod and Nick exchanged a glance as they recognized the rider.

The sheriff tried again. “Frank, these people have been empowered as agents of the Coastal and Western to take possession of your property.”

“I’ll be dead first.” The normally genial farmer’s eyes were cold.

“Now, Frank, you listen.” The sheriff’s voice was almost desperate, pleading with the assembled men. “All of you, listen.”

The bay horse galloped through the assembled riders, stopping at the house as its rider jumped from the saddle, pulling the rifle from its sheath and hurrying onto the porch. Heath held the rifle firmly as he took a position beside his brothers.

“These men have been duly sworn and deputized, and every one with the right to do as they see fit if they're defied.” Harry Lyman looked from the men assembled on the porch to those who would use whatever force necessary to take that land away before turning back. “Frank, you've got family. Now that must mean something. You think of your people.”

No one spoke, not a muscle twitched. He turned to appeal to the men whose father had been a leader in the valley. “In the name of God, Jarrod, Nick!”

Everyone stared, unmoving, not speaking. The leader of the hired men took a look at his watch and up a finger to indicate one minute.

“You have no way!” the sheriff tried again. “Jarrod, tell them!”

“Get out of this, Harry,” Nick warned, not wanting to see an old friend get killed for just doing his duty.

“You men are asking to be killed!” It was as if Lyman was talking to a stone wall. “You're fighting for something you haven't a chance of winning!”

“There’s a motion being heard by the Supreme Court,” Jarrod offered, taking one more chance to avoid bloodshed. “Will you wait?”

Sheriff Lyman looked to the railroad’s men, undecided. Pistols were loosened from holsters, rifles were readied and Jarrod slowly removed the safety loop from his gun. Without warning, the leader drew his gun and shot Sample dead in the chest, the unfortunate farmer flying backwards to lie unmoving in the dirt.

Nick jumped over the porch rail and pulled his gun, firing as bullets started flying in all directions. Men started falling and Nick was too busy trying to keep himself alive to worry about the men he was killing.

Harry Lyman moved in a circle, as if still trying to find a way to stop the altercation. Jarrod watched in horror as a stray bullet felled his friend and fellow upholder of justice. He looked up as Cody Miller, long-time employee of the Barkleys, was hit and fell from the barn loft, clutching his chest and the lawyer finally pulled his gun, picking several men off their horses. Pain ripped through his arm and Jarrod fell back, clutching at the gunshot wound. He felt someone come off the porch and crouch down beside him as he regained his composure and sent a few more shots into the fray.

Taking careful aim, Heath used the skills he’d learned as a sharpshooter in the Union army to pick off several of his opponents before he saw Jarrod fall back against the steps. He quickly leaped to his brother’s side, thankful to see Jarrod hadn’t been seriously wounded as the other man resumed firing. Heath took aim and felled a man who looked to be taking advantage of Jarrod’s momentary incapacitation. He took no pleasure in killing and knew he’d be an emotional wreck after all was said and done. But it was his brothers he was fighting beside that day, for a cause that Heath knew was right and that made all the difference.

Nick glanced over to see his two brothers fighting side by side. _All Tom Barkley’s sons fighting together, as it should be,_ he thought, looking back at the chaos. It was then he noticed the rider taking careful aim, his intended target Nick’s newest brother, the man to whom he’d lost his heart and soul. Time slowed to a crawl, Nick’s only focus getting to Heath and he threw himself in front of the bullet that was about to take the blond’s life, an explosion of fire bursting in his chest as the piece of lead found him instead. “Heath,” he whispered as pain overcame him and the world faded to nothingness.

The hired guns turned tail and ran, knowing they had been beaten as Jarrod and Heath crouched beside their fallen brother. Men helped wounded comrades to ride double, followed by a few more shots fired from the defenders as Heath tore open Nick’s shirt to expose the hole that was rapidly oozing blood. Nettie Sample rushed from the house to the side of her slain husband as Jarrod ripped off the sleeve where the bullet had grazed his arm, holding the fabric tightly to Nick’s chest in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.

“He needs a doctor.” Jarrod stated the obvious as Heath’s eyes were fixed on Nick’s pale face. “Mother was going to ask Dr. Merar out to the ranch until this was all over, since our place is closest.” Heath nodded, blindly groping for and gripping Nick’s hand. Jarrod took Heath’s other hand and pressed it to the makeshift bandage. “Keep pressure on. I’ll be back with the doc as soon as I can.” He clasped Heath’s shoulder and Heath felt him move away.

“You gotta live, Nick,” Heath whispered in anguish. “I can’t have just found you only to lose you like this. I need to see some of that Barkley courage your mama was telling me about. Live, Nick, fight.” He continued to hang on to Nick’s hand, to keep pressure on the gaping hole in Nick’s chest, offering up a silent prayer for the life of his brother, the life of the man he loved.


	18. Chapter 18

Jarrod had never been so happy to see the doctor’s buggy as he was when he arrived at the ranch. He pulled the lathered, heaving Jingo to a halt and threw himself out of the saddle, leaping up the porch steps and bursting through the front door.

“Mother!” he hollered as soon as he entered the foyer.

“Nick, must you…” Jarrod saw Victoria rise from the settee in the parlour, her face tuning ashen as she realized which of her sons it was and took in his torn sleeve and bloody arm. “Jarrod, are you all right? Your arm…”

Jarrod shrugged her off as she came over. “It’s not me, it’s Nick. Doctor,” he turned to the lean man moving up behind his mother, “my brother’s been badly wounded. Probably others, too.”

Dr. Merar snatched his hat from the hall table. “Just saddle me a fast horse, Jarrod, and let me grab my bag. I’ll be right behind you.”

Jarrod nodded curtly and turned to leave. He suddenly came back and gave Victoria a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll bring him home, Mother,” he promised before quickly striding out of the house.

“I’ll take care of both of them, Victoria,” Howard Merar assured her as he followed.

Victoria stood, but it was a moment before she shook off her shock. Picking up her skirts, she hurried into the kitchen. “Silas,” she commanded, causing the white haired black man to turn from the breakfast dishes he was cleaning up, “gather up some supplies, bandages, blankets, food, water and brandy while I get the wagon hitched. We’re needed over at Frank Sample’s.”

*

The farmyard was less chaotic when Jarrod arrived with the doctor. The bodies of the fallen had been moved off to one side and respectfully covered with sheets and blankets. The last of the wounded was being moved onto the porch, the last except for one. Nick still lay where he had fallen, Heath still by his side in the same posture Jarrod had left him. Jarrod’s heart lurched when he saw how pale his dark-haired brother was. He put a hand softly on Heath’s shoulder and the blond jumped, turning.

“I brought the doctor, Heath.”

Heath gulped and nodded, slowly pulling his hand away from the piece of Jarrod’s shirt he had been using as a bandage. Dr. Merar lifted the bloody fabric and carefully examined the wound.

“Well, it looks as thought the bleeding has stopped for now. But I’ll need to get the bullet out as soon as possible. Jarrod, can the two of you take him someplace inside where I can operate? I’m just going to see who else needs my services.”

Jarrod nodded, squeezing Heath’s shoulder in a gesture of brotherly reassurance as the physician went to check on the status of the other wounded. “Come on, Heath, let’s get Nick into the house.”

Heath stayed at Nick’s side for a moment, smoothing back the lock of hair that kept flopping over Nick’s forehead, before rising to his feet.

“I’ll take this side, you grab the other,” Jarrod instructed. Putting an arm under both Nick’s shoulder and leg, the two men lifted him off the ground. Heath glanced up at Jarrod’s sharp inhale and saw his oldest brother’s face go pale.

“Jarrod, your arm…” Heath started, but Jarrod shook his head sharply.

“Let’s just go, Heath,” he said through gritted teeth, “I’ll be okay.”

They made their slow way into the house, past the parlour where Nettie Sample sat, cradling her children in her arms.

“Mrs. Sample, ma’am?” Jarrod asked gently, keeping the pain out of his voice. “My brother needs immediate surgery. Is there someplace…?”

The newly-widowed woman nodded, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. “In the kitchen, Jarrod. You can use the table.”

“Thank you.”

“Much obliged, ma’am,” Heath added as he and Jarrod moved Nick into the next room, laying him carefully on the table.

Nick’s eyelids fluttered open and a low noise came from his throat. Heath instantly grabbed his hand and Jarrod put a restraining hand on Nick’s shoulder.

“Don’t move, Nick,” the lawyer cautioned. “You’ve got a bullet in you and the doc’ll be here right away to get it out.”

“Heath… okay?” he gasped.

“Right here, Nick,” Heath told him, squeezing his hand. “Not even a scratch, thanks to you.”

“Good.” Nick closed his eyes again. “Tired…”

Jarrod gave the shoulder a rough squeeze. “Don’t you go giving up on us, Nick. Mother’ll have my hide if I don’t bring you back in one piece.”

Dr. Merar strode into the kitchen, pulling things put of his bag as he walked. “Jarrod, find a basin and pour this alcohol over these instruments,” he ordered, handing over the mentioned items. Jarrod quickly rummaged through the cupboards as the doctor took Nick’s wrist and held it for a moment. “Pulse is a little fast, but strong.” He turned to Heath. “You did a good job on getting that bleeding stopped.”

Jarrod came over with the basin of instruments. “Here you are, doc.”

“Just put them over there.” Dr. Merar indicated the counter top beside him as he rolled up his sleeves. “Pump some water for me to wash up. I need you to wash so you can help me and then we’ll get started.”

Jarrod worked the handle of the small kitchen pump and the doctor washed his hands vigorously, holding them away from his body as he returned to the table. He pulled a small chunk of leather out of his bag and leaned toward Nick.

“Nick, this is going to hurt. A lot.” He slid the leather between Nick’s teeth. “Bite on this, it might help. Jarrod, hand me that probe.” Jarrod picked a long, blunt ended instrument out of the basin and handed it to the doctor. A moan escaped from Nick’s clenched teeth as the probe was inserted and his eyes flew open. They looked around wildly for a brief moment before catching a pair of sky blue. Nick gripped Heath’s hand more tightly and his eyes locked with the blond’s, not wavering as the doctor found the bullet and Jarrod passed him the next instrument. Nick uttered another cry as the bullet came out in one smooth motion, his eyes finally rolling back as the pain sent him again into unconsciousness.

Dr. Merar folded a thick pad of bandage and placed it over the wound. “Thank goodness it wasn’t very deep. Mr. Thomson, you hold this,” he instructed. “Jarrod, let’s take a look at that arm before it bleeds all over my other patient.”

Jarrod silently let the doctor clean and bandage his arm, keeping watch on his brothers. He turned his head when a familiar voice choked out, “Howard?”

Victoria walked slowly into the room. “Will he…?”

Finishing with Jarrod, Dr. Merar took the pad from Heath and checked Nick’s wound before bandaging it. “He should be okay, Victoria, barring infection.”

Heath backed off as Victoria took his place at Nick’s side. “Oh, thank God,” she whispered, smoothing back the dark hair.

“You can take him home whenever you want,” the doctor continued, “just take it slow. Jarrod, I recommend you keep that arm in a sling and don’t use it for a few days.” He gathered up his instruments, washing them and stowing them back in his bag. “There are a few other minor injuries. I’ll come check on Nick tomorrow, but call me sooner if you need to.”

“Thank you, Howard,” Victoria said gratefully. She looked at the two men standing quietly, one dark and one blond, but both with the blue eyes of their father. “Silas and I brought the wagon. Jarrod, go get him to help carry Nick and we’ll bring your brother home.”

The ride back to the ranch was agonizing for Heath. Every moan, every gasp from Nick as the wagon hit a rut sliced through him. He knew Jarrod was driving as carefully as he could, but sitting in the back of the wagon, cradling Nick against his chest to buffer the jolts as much as possible, Heath wanted to scream at the other man to stop, to slow down, anything to keep from causing Nick more pain. He couldn’t meet the worried eyes of the silver-haired woman beside him; he knew what he was feeling would be reflected on her face at least ten-fold.

“It should’ve been me,” he whispered as Nick groaned again in pain.

“What was that, Heath?” Heath finally looked into those caring grey eyes.

“I said, it should’ve been me,” he repeated, a little bit louder.

“And if it was you lying there,” came the response from the driver’s bench, “Nick would be saying the same thing.” Jarrod didn’t look back, just kept a close eye on the road to avoid the worst of the ruts and bumps.

“How can you say that, Jarrod?” Heath wanted to know, distressed. “He’s your brother. I’m just…”

“His brother too.” Both men turned sharply as Victoria spoke while she stroked Nick’s hair. Heath caught the brief exchange of glances between mother and eldest son before Jarrod turned back to the road.

“Ma’am…” Heath started, but Victoria cut him off with a shake of her head.

“Let’s just get Nick home,” she said firmly. “We’ll have plenty of time to worry about everything else once we know he’s safe.”

Obedient to her wishes, Heath was silent on the rest of the ride. His mind continued to replay those moments over and over in slow motion, seeing Nick leap in front of him, the red blossoming on the other man’s chest as the bullet found its mark. He remembered vaguely Jarrod telling him he was going for the doctor, his whole world focused on Nick and keeping Nick alive. How could he have ever thought the tall rancher was a callous, unfeeling monster? He thought about the way Nick held him after Gal broke her leg. Heath was right about Nick’s ultimate intentions, but oh, so wrong about the man behind them.

Looking back, he could now see Nick’s attempt to care for and comfort him before events reached their inevitable conclusion. And that conclusion had been inevitable, Heath had to admit as he held Nick tightly in his arms. He’d been attracted as much as he’d been repelled in those first few days and he now knew that revulsion was only due to the depravities he’d experienced in the past, not to Nick himself. The only thing that gave him any pause now was that Nick was his brother and he wasn’t sure how he could reconcile that with the feelings of longing he now had.

 _One step at a time,_ Heath, he told himself. _Like Mrs. Barkley said, let’s just get him home and get him well before we think about anything else._

*

Victoria chopped carrots, readying some soup. She was thankful Audra was staying in town with friends and since Silas decided to remain behind at the Sample farm, stating that Nick had the rest of his family to care for him and Dr. Merar likely needed another pair of capable hands, Victoria was preparing something to eat, trying to keep her mind off her boys upstairs. It had taken all of her willpower not to follow when Jarrod and Heath took Nick up to his room, knowing that his brothers were capable of getting Nick settled comfortably in his bed.

His brothers. There was no doubt in her mind that Jarrod counted Heath as such and she had a shrewd suspicion that Heath felt the same. She knew it would be hard, but Victoria was determined to welcome this son of her husband’s with the same acceptance.

“Making a carrot cake for Nick’s recovery?”

Victoria looked up into Jarrod’s dancing blue eyes, then down at the carrots that did indeed seem to be chopped fine enough for one of her son’s favourite desserts. “I suppose the pieces are a bit small,” she admitted as she swept them off the chopping board and dumped them into the pot on the stove. Putting the knife down, Victoria turned back to her oldest son. Suddenly, all the anxiety and worry of the past few days overwhelmed her and she began to shake, her breath coming in great, heaving sobs.

Jarrod took her into his arms and held her close while she cried on his shoulder, rubbing her back and offering words of comfort. “It’s okay, Mother, Nick will be fine. I’m sure you’ll be threatening him with your wooden spoon to keep him in bed before you know it.”

The tears exhausted themselves a few minutes later and Jarrod pulled out a handkerchief to dry her eyes, his suspiciously bright as well.

“I’m sorry, Jarrod,” Victoria said apologetically.

“No need, lovely lady.” Jarrod placed a small kiss on her forehead. “You’ve soothed enough of my tears in the past, it’s only right that I return the favour.” He guided her to a chair and sat her down before taking his own seat beside her. He stared at his hands clasped on the table before looking at her. “When did you know about Heath?” he finally asked.

Victoria gazed out the window. “I suppose I suspected not long after he saved Audra,” she said. “There was just something about him that I couldn’t put my finger on, then, when I overheard you and Nick in the hall…”

Jarrod looked up abruptly, guilt on his face. “I never wanted you to hear…”

Victoria placed her hand over his. “It’s all right, sweetheart.” She took a deep breath as Jarrod held her hand. “I knew about your father’s roving eye, his… indiscretions. He told me about his affair in Strawberry, with the woman who must have been Heath’s mother.”

“I’m sorry, Mother.”

Victoria smiled, holding his eyes with hers. “You of all people have nothing to be sorry for, Jarrod. I should have said it more often, but I’ve never been anything less than proud of you.”

Jarrod tried to return the smile, but the guilt remained on his face. “If I’d have done what Father wanted, he might still be alive, today might not have had to happen,” he said softly.

“Never think that, Jarrod,” his mother admonished him sternly. “You followed your convictions and I know your father admired you for that.” Disbelief flickered across his face, but Victoria continued. “He never understood why you didn’t want to follow in his footsteps, but when we received the letter that said you graduated from law school at the top of your class…” She gave a small laugh. “I swear I thought he was going to take out a full page ad in the paper. As it was, he crowed about his brilliant lawyer son across the entire valley. He almost broke us, buying drinks for practically all of Stockton.”

“I never knew,” Jarrod whispered in surprise. “I always thought that I let him down when I didn’t stay on the ranch, that he resented me for leaving.”

“Oh, no, Jarrod, never that.” Victoria shook her head, her eyes growing bright with emotion. “He was disappointed, true, but he was so proud of what you accomplished. I think he felt badly that you had to do it all on your own. Your father never was one to admit he made a mistake. I think his guilt about not supporting you made him even that much harder on you.” She gripped his hand more tightly. “I’m sorry neither of us ever told you. We both failed you in that way, sweetheart. All you’ve ever done is make me proud.”

Victoria saw the guilt slowly leave Jarrod’s face as he wrestled with her revelation. “And I’ve always been proud to be your son,” he told her when he could finally speak. “Yours and Father’s.” There was another moment of silence before Jarrod glanced at the stairs. “What about Heath? I couldn’t get him away from Nick’s bedside, you know.”

Victoria followed his gaze, thinking about the way Heath held on to Nick on the journey back to the ranch. “I think Heath made himself a part of this family when he saved Audra,” she said. “And he certainly seems to have a close connection with Nick.”

Jarrod nodded. “And from what I’ve seen, Nick shares that connection.”

Victoria got the sense that there was something more to Jarrod’s statement, but refrained from asking.

“How do you feel, Mother, about all this?” Jarrod continued. “I mean, Heath is Father’s son, my brother, but he’s not yours. If it’s too hard…” He trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

“It will be hard,” Victoria admitted, “but I certainly bear no ill will toward that young man. I want him to stay, for you to get to know each other and for him to feel a part of this family. I never want to take him away from his own mother, but---“

“His mother passed away two days ago,” Jarrod interjected softly. “We got to Strawberry just in time for him to say good-bye.”

Victoria’s heart went out to the man sitting upstairs with her injured son. “Then he has no one.”

“Only an old family friend who he didn’t want to leave all by herself,” Jarrod confirmed. “But he does have a family, right here with us.”

“And he always will,” Victoria concurred firmly, acceptance written irrevocably in her determined grey eyes.


	19. Chapter 19

Oh, god, he hurt. Every breath caused a stabbing pain and he didn’t have the strength to move, even to try and ease the burning in his chest. He attempted to lift his hand, but it seemed pinned, tied down somehow. What the devil happened? He forced his way through the fog that clouded his thoughts and bits and pieces started coming back.

Men, horses, gunfire. The muzzle of a gun, pointed right at…

“Heath,” Nick gasped, his eyes flying open. He felt his hand squeezed even tighter.

“ ‘Bout time you woke up, Sleeping Beauty.” The worry and relief Nick saw in the sky-blue eyes of the man sitting beside the bed contrasted with the light tone in his voice. “Thought I might have to kiss you before you’d open those eyes of yours.”

“Heath,” Nick said again, “you’re here. You’re all right.”

“Right as rain, Nick,” the blond confirmed. “But if you ever scare me like that again, I’m putting molasses in your boots.”

Nick’s heart skipped a beat. When he realized that Heath had left after the fire at Swenson’s, and when the blond hadn’t shown up before they went to Frank Sample’s the next morning, Nick was devastated to think that Heath might have left his life for good. He’d managed to bury the hurt and the disappointment by concentrating on the life and death struggle that was about to happen, but Nick had never felt the loss of another person so keenly, unless it was at the death of his father.

Then Heath showed up before the firefight started and Nick’s spirits were buoyed by hope. Hope that turned into fear when he saw a gun trained on a man he knew he’d do anything for. Fear that was now becoming hope again.

“Does that mean…?” He gripped the hand that was holding his, almost desperately. “Are you planning on staying, Heath?”

Heath shrugged. “Don’t know for sure,” he answered, “reckon your mama has something to say about that.” A slow grin graced his lips. “Think anyone else’ll want me around?”

A fit of coughing forestalled Nick’s reply and Heath helped him sit more upright, placing a pillow behind Nick’s back before pouring him a glass of water from the pitcher at the side of the bed. Heath took the glass when Nick was done and sat on the edge on the mattress.

Nick smiled at the playful light that danced in Heath’s blue eyes and his own hazel ones glinted in response. He didn’t know what kind of relationship Heath was intending, but right now, having him as a brother would be enough. _Even though I don’t think I’ll ever be able to love anyone else,_ Nick thought wistfully.

“Oh, reckon Duke thinks you’re a hard enough worker to keep around,” Nick replied non-committally. “This is a working ranch, you know. Good hands are hard to find.”

“Reckon that’s a fact.” Heath studied Nick for a moment, and the dark haired rancher’s heart beat faster at the intensity. “I might want to stick around for other reasons, too.”

Nick froze in shock as Heath leaned over and kissed him boldly. But it didn’t take long for him to return the kiss in kind, molding his lips to Heath’s as their tongues met with long-repressed passion.

“Ahem.”

They broke apart hastily, Heath bolting to a standing position and Nick’s face flinched in pain as he too tried to move suddenly.

Jarrod regarded them with a raised eyebrow, a hint of an embarrassed smile on his lips. “Nick, you should know better, but I probably should warn you, Heath, unless you lock your door, there’s not much privacy around here. We Barkleys are a pretty close-knit and nosy bunch.” The oldest brother had to chuckle at the flush of embarrassment on both his younger brothers’ faces. “Don’t worry, boys, your secret is safe with me. You’re just lucky I wasn’t Mother.” He walked over to the bed. “How are you feeling, Nick? Or do I even need to ask?”

“You’re… you’re all right with this, Jarrod?” Heath asked hesitantly. “With me and Nick, and…”

Jarrod put a hand on Heath’s shoulder, gripping it reassuringly. “I can’t honestly say I understand,” he admitted, “but to quote a famous man, ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy’. I just want for both of you to be happy and if this is what does it….” He shrugged and smiled.

“Well, reckon I’m grateful you quoted 'Hamlet' instead of 'Romeo and Juliet',” Heath drawled dryly. “Nick here would look kind of silly hanging off a balcony.”

“Hey,” Nick protested, “if anyone’s gonna be Juliet…” He stopped in mid-rant and laughed along with his brothers. “Just wait, you two. My revenge is going to be long and sweet.”

“Not as sweet as you, big brother,” Heath said with a wink and Nick experienced a warm tingle as he reached up to grasp Heath’s hand warmly.

Jarrod eyed his new brother curiously. “I didn’t know you read Shakespeare, brother Heath.”

“Reckon there’s a lot of things about me you don’t know, Jarrod,” Heath said as he sat again beside Nick. “Probably all gonna be learning a lot about each other in the next little while.”

Nick didn’t miss Jarrod’s raised eyebrow at the expression he exchanged with Heath. The lawyer shook his head and cleared his throat.

“Well, be that as it may, I have something here that might interest both of you.”

It was then Nick noticed the paper Jarrod was holding as he continued. “The Supreme Court granted the injunction this morning. I don’t know how the farmers will feel, but it seems the land is theirs free and clear, under squatters’ rights, if nothing else.”

“A little too late for all those men who were killed,” Nick muttered.

Jarrod folded the paper and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “At least it’s over,” he reminded them, but the sorrow on his face over the senseless killing was reflected on both his brothers’.

After a moment of silence, Jarrod spoke up again. “Heath, Mother wants to talk to you. Something about which bedroom will be yours. Personally, I’d take the one at the end of the hall; it’s got a remarkable view of the valley.” His eyes twinkled. “But even though the room next door’s a lot smaller, it’d be a lot more convenient for sneaking over here in the middle of the night. Providing you remember to lock the door,” he added with a wink, adroitly dodging the cloth Heath threw at his head as he made his retreat from the room. “She’ll be waiting in the parlour,” he called as he closed the door behind him.

Nick gave a dimpled grin as Heath turned back to him, a shy lopsided smile on his face as well.

“Reckon we can make this work, Nick?” he asked softly.

Nick reached up and grasped the back of Heath’s neck, pulling him down for a tender kiss. “I reckon so,” he whispered back before Heath returned the kiss.

“I’d better get downstairs before you forget we haven’t locked the door,” Heath teased as he stood. “Can I get you anything?”

“Just promise me you’ll come back, Heath.”

“Never been an easier promise to make, Nick.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come to the end of my little tale, thanks for coming along!

Heath urged the magnificent bay into a fast gallop, the wind streaming past and threatening to pull his hat from his head. Charger responded easily to the subtle pressure on the reins and again Heath marvelled at the horse his brothers had bestowed upon him as a sort of ‘welcome home’ present. The bay could never take the place of his beloved Gal, but boy howdy, Charger was one fine horse.

The past two weeks had sure been an eye opener. He already knew Jarrod and Nick considered him their brother, but he’d never expected anything like the warm welcome he received from Victoria Barkley; it was almost as if she considered him as much of a son as she did Nick and Jarrod. She’d told him flat out the other day that he had to start calling her something else, that ‘ma’am’ made her feel old and ‘Mrs. Barkley’ made it seem as though they were strangers, not family. Nick had teased that he should start calling her ‘Mother’ like the rest of them and Heath couldn’t help but notice the light that came to her grey eyes at that. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to call her that yet, but maybe, some day…

Heath slowed Charger as he saw the line shack in the distance. He patted the proud neck as he thought of a statement of Nick’s from when he’d first come to the ranch.

_“Hey, boy, ever thought of having something more powerful than that mare between your legs?”_

Well, now he did and there never was a finer animal than Charger. Butterflies multiplied in his stomach when he thought of the real intention behind Nick’s words and he could feel a warm flush throughout his body. Heath grew more nervous as he approached the small building, wondering if Nick would actually be there. The two of them hadn’t gotten a chance to really be alone together, what with Heath settling into the ranch and the routine of family. So the blond had dropped a few hints at breakfast that he wanted to make sure the line shacks were properly equipped and was taking it upon himself to check them out that morning. He’d given Nick a steady look when he said it and was pretty sure the other man had read his intentions.

But when it came right down to it, Heath wasn’t sure if Nick really wanted to engage in that sort of relationship. At least, he hadn’t been sure until he saw the liver chestnut tethered in the shade of the shack, saddle removed so he’d be more comfortable. Heath tied Charger next to Coco, slipping the bit and unsaddling the bay as well. He gave both horses a pat as he took a deep breath.

“Well, here goes nothing. Wish me luck, fellas.”

Heath walked to the door and opened it slowly to find Nick seated at the small table, sipping a cup of coffee. The smile on his face and the light in the hazel eyes were more than enough to banish any doubts Heath still had. Heath slowly closed the door and locked it behind him.

“Took your own sweet time, boy,” Nick said, trying to sound gruff as Heath removed his hat and started unbuckling his gunbelt. In no time, the dark rancher’s hands were there, swatting his away. “Here, let me help you with that.” Nick deftly unbuckled it, dropping the rig to the ground before he started on the belt to Heath’s pants, his mouth seeking and finding Heath’s as he unfastened the buckle.

Heath slid one hand under Nick’s vest, the other slipping underneath his partially unbuttoned shirt to caress the smooth skin. He found the hard peak of a nipple and ran his thumb over it, a moan coming from Nick’s throat. Heath felt Nick’s hand push the pants over his hips and moaned himself when Nick grabbed his ass. The hardness of Nick’s growing erection pushed against his own and Heath knew he’d never felt anything so right.

“Reckon we’d be more comfortable on the bed,” Nick suggested as he released Heath’s lips to nip at his neck and Heath tripped over the pants that were effectively hobbling his legs.

“Okay, Nick, but are you gonna let me take off my boots first?” the blond teased, pulling out of his brother’s grip. He eyed Nick’s own footwear. “Not that the spurs ain’t a turn on, but I don’t reckon they’d do the blankets much good.”

Nick chuckled and acquiesced with a gesture, sitting on the edge of the cot to take off his own boots. He squawked in surprise as he was pushed back across the mattress and his breath grew ragged when Heath straddled him, pants completely removed and his full cock standing straight in all its glory. The blond finished unbuttoning Nick’s shirt and started pushing it off. Nick fumbled with the buttons on the cuffs and when they wouldn’t unfasten fast enough, he just pulled, sending the buttons flying.

Reaching up, Nick grasped Heath by the back of his neck and pulled his head down so he could kiss him again. His fingers played with the fine hairs at the nape while his other hand returned the favour of undoing Heath’s shirt. Heath sat up to finish taking it off.

“Don’t fancy sewing on buttons as much as you do, Nick,” he teased as he tossed the blue chambray to the floor and went to work on the fastenings of Nick’s pants.

Nick lay on the bed, shivers running up his body as Heath released his hard shaft, stroking it gently before tugging the pants the rest of the way off. His hand travelled up the inside of Nick’s thigh and Nick gasped again when Heath reached his scrotum, squeezing his balls carefully before returning to stroke his penis.

“Ain’t never done this before, you know,” Heath said quietly. Nick lifted his head, puzzled.

Heath didn’t meet his eyes as he continued. “Never had sex just for the fun of it or because I wanted to please someone else. It was always just an itch that needed scratching, or me just there for someone to scratch his own, whether I wanted it or not.”

Nick didn’t know what to say as he reached up and caressed Heath’s arm.

“I want to please you, Nick,” Heath finished, almost in a whisper.

“I’m yours, Heath,” Nick finally said, his voice thick with emotion. “To please you and be pleased. I’ll always be yours.”

Heath leaned over Nick and kissed him again, rubbing his penis against Nick’s as his hands caressed the smooth chest. He ground his pelvis in harder, causing Nick to moan with pleasure. Even though he was used to being the one in control, Nick willingly surrendered himself to Heath’s attentions, wanting nothing more than to be loved by him.

“I want you, Heath,” he finally gasped when the blond released his lips to trail tiny kisses down his neck. “I want you inside me, I want you to make me yours.”

Heath stopped what he was doing and stared at Nick, disbelief on his face. “Nick, I’ve never… I mean, I haven’t…”

Nick reached back to the bottle of oil he’d placed earlier on the shelf by the cot. He poured some into his hand, and then reached down to liberally coat Heath’s cock. Heath closed his eyes in rapture as Nick stroked him.

Nick moved his legs so Heath was between them and lifted his hips before he took Heath’s hand, guiding it to the crease between his buttocks. “If you don’t want to, Heath, you don’t have to. But I really hope you do.”

Heath responded by rubbing his fingers over the taut pucker. As he slipped the first finger inside, he asked, “Are you sure, Nick?”

“Oh, god, Heath, yes.” Nick inhaled sharply as Heath found his prostate mostly by accident. “Right there, Heath. Oh my god,” he moaned again as Heath ran his finger across the hard nub, deliberately this time.

Heath had to smile at the look of raw pleasure that came over Nick’s face. Slowly, he inserted a second finger, working in and out as Nick moaned beneath him.

“Fill me, Heath,” the dark haired man whispered. “I can’t wait to feel you inside.”

Heath positioned his cock at Nick’s entrance and pushed slowly. It took more force than he expected to get in and went farther than he intended, causing Nick’s eyes to fly open as his breath sucked in painfully.

“God, Nick, I’m sorry,” Heath said in a rush, starting to pull out before Nick grabbed his ass firmly.

“No, Heath, just give me a moment,” Nick panted. Heath reached between them and started stroking Nick’s own erection.

“Maybe this’ll help,” he said, moving only his hand as the tight ring of muscle squeezed his cock.

“Oh, you better believe it does,” Nick assured him, staring into Heath’s eyes with a dark passion. Heath felt the constriction ease and involuntarily slipped in deeper.

“Nick…” he started to apologize again, but Nick grabbed him more firmly, bent his knees and arched his hips, impaling himself further on Heath’s shaft.

“All the way, Heath.”

Heath couldn’t help a moan of his own as his cock was buried to the hilt inside Nick’s ass. “Never thought it could feel this good,” he groaned, relishing the feeling.

“It’ll feel better when you move,” Nick informed him. “Fuck me, Heath. Fuck me hard and fast.”

Heath pulled out and slowly pushed back in.

“If that’s your idea of hard and fast, boy…” Nick started, and then he gasped as Heath pulled back again and slammed into him.

“Don’t rush me, Nick,” Heath teased, “just getting warmed up.” He picked up the tempo until he was pounding Nick’s ass with all the force he could muster, marvelling at the expression on Nick’s face as his brother threw his head back in ecstasy.

“Oh, God, Heath, yes!” and Nick reached between them to grab his cock, working it roughly to the rhythm of Heath’s thrusts. “Oh, Heath,” he moaned and Heath watched in fascination as Nick’s erection swelled, pulsing as it shot jets of milky fluid over his belly and hand. The muscles of Nick’s ass clenched and unclenched, squeezing Heath’s penis in such a fashion that the blond felt a burn begin in his belly and travel to his groin. His balls drew up tightly and he began thrusting in short, sharp strokes.

“Nick!” he called out as the world flashed in front of his eyes and his seed shot deep into his brother’s hot depths. His cock twitched and pulsed, releasing every last bit of his essence into Nick as he collapsed onto his brother’s chest. He felt Nick’s hand caress his back, uncaring of the scars and gentle fingers played with the hair on the back on his head as Nick held him close.

“I love you, Heath,” Nick whispered. “You’re my heart and my soul.”

Heath lifted his head to once again lose himself in the gold-flecked depths of Nick’s eyes. “If I’m yours, you’re mine,” he assured him and the two men rested, entwined together, knowing that while nothing would ever be the same, the future was bigger and brighter than either of them had ever dared to dream.


End file.
